












LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliap..i^rCopyright No.. 

TZls 

Shelf. — jw^_cf.^2.TD 

! 2 . 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


> -.v- 


- ' -■ ^ *. \.. ■ 

^ \ .*, k 

- >’. — . 


r . 

''/‘':!^P’'r’,'Tj’/i 7 '- 




■"•'■*. '"r ;v» : '’ ’#■'**’''/• *»"ii''.*''<^V 






- . 'A-/ 


; 4 . y V* . iI'A; 



Si 
'V 


I> 


ft- 


^ • 


Mh 


.V* 

I*/ 




*-><»>; *■; 

« , M *14 % V 


• \ 


^ 4 r. 




r 


/ ; •, • 

O' 



V‘ , 




* » 4 . * •'V *' 


yf r‘|#>r 


* I I ■> 






» '■ *.V.M 

(k 1 ^ tv>v ^ , 


u 


■:■<■ 




■• L'. '']^i''- ' mV 

L« ' * ' • / 

y . 

t * ■•u j * I * 






’; '•,' 'V '•,•<,■; i'. 

f 'V-vVV-Vf‘'>J4rM*"^,. 


Vk ■ 


#'t 




Va -V' ■ v : ■ ' . 1 ^. . 

♦ 


’■Vr‘*.v;^ •’ •'■ ' ' ' '.fv> ■,* ' 

( ' ■* '* **N '■ , • ■. v* 4 f^r , 

- i i' •/■• '« ..' ^ i'..Ly' 


A- ■ 




'A 


» . 



« 


'...f 



■ • ■•• ' .... . V .cS. 

>; • 'A ^ f 

y.» H- >4 .•• ^ 


»; •*»- j iV, . \ ^ i.<'* 

A- .. ‘.•"^-’^/rV.M.V.fe. 

iVi':' ■ :'■', 

1 .V*. . V :•! ■ . A .- 



.» I 


\ '. 4 


<S' 

fV 


-r 


•m »* 




I .. k* 

M H* 


-f I f 


■- • •» ''f.t 
tyt-'v-; v)^ 




a ft f 


■•■ !?vy .' ■• ■ 




' htt i^.J yx *' 




«! 4 Ulk‘ i 






'■■%. ■ '■ 'AiM 

■' iW 


•■ . ,V.,|pii *%*>kA>\'''ii«.^^ 



►1 .vi*: (■•>,'! , . ' ' . I. ■ > . f . ' 

I • i . J . . 1 I * A^ It* .**.'( 1 ( ' f I I 1 I \ * A • , « 






* 't . 




m 


I » I 

¥ 




*F.^ 






ft ' . 



m'Jk ^ ■ .! ': ■ ■ 

‘ r - - ^ ^ 


f'^i 

i-' 

'»i 

t‘>-: 








'i: 




v '. ■*■^ ■.''Wa^-w’-tf-i'.'i / • • t .-^ 


' 1 f iiiiiiiiiii'-^' ■■' -TO 

'C' *< ** SSft .*‘ ^ -iJfK* J^t' v. 






• 4 >i 


m 


A>, 




n 


•.'w* '"v j . • 


^ vr 

V- ^ 

.i « /». ^ • 




'<^1 




v^ 


*»•;- 


✓ » 


• ^i?»! 'm '• 


•*’ * < 

- J* ^ ' 

'*4 . •’• • f 


/ 




\ '!• 


• ,». 


% 




• *A ’*'V 

U • ‘ -T . 


V-'. '■^' ^ 

/.,-'’ 4 . .. 5 . r-tsi V'. 

■ “3( * * k •■?• ; 5-^' 
" , / 

!i 


i\ 









w^' • i 






1 4 




^ 


*r* • 


. .j 


\ 




• r, 


!&' fc. 


t ';• .*3 

^•';>*S \.. •> *• 


V' b| 




[^^r 




V 


i- 




< M 


' • 1 


'w«' ■ ir '^ ; ■^■>; ■ 

C/ ' 'V- 

■ 


t' •• 

■^i i . . • '' t 


■?J 


' v.'i 


t • 


'» *4 




♦. 'A'. 


I 






» 


■ri'\ 


kV '^ 


i'': ■'''u 


llW>,‘!' 


«i 

' A-;. 

> 

j 


•'■ ■'' '. 

■ 1 '. ' ‘ 



>■ ’'^ 

/ 

««jn 


f.' 




' u 


‘i 


*V 






'S 






1 


V’i ‘-V'. 




■4. 


V4{^:.' 


*' , 


'• - 4l 


Ir “Si 










h f y. 






...//.' ■ ■'''. , 






/i 


t '•'i. 




, > 


.<■. T 


'^t 


V, 






/X 








■u- 4 


T / 




‘A. 




v*t »' 


4< 




r I' 


*’» f 






1> 




>•>. 




* ' T" 


/I 


i- 


'-•■/‘I 


7 ’4/^:> 


S 




■to 






JTiJ 


t>Si 


Vv 


7^ 


>-^i 


-cA 








*-'V* 1 fi 








'^1 


'^1 


Iff 




« -N 




•.*: 


%> 






<. 




Vi'/^ 


j'yw. 






:-f»''r< 


>vv 


•* 7 


* rJltf" 




V *1 


.*< ' . '• 


>y« 


>•/ 


'•/| - 4 . 


V-V 


•T -* *¥♦- 


-jP: 


H'./ ) 


■ < 








i-^t 


^ / 


r*< 


<• * * V -V 




A,- f< 






4 i - ''V!;*! 




a 


• j -^i 

I 'k'A} 


^.<j( 






V 






-VN 




















I 


He held her face between his hands and kissed her. — Page 338 


DAIREEN 



A Novel , - 

I ’ 

■ '/> 





FRANK FRANKFORT MOORE 

y% 

AUTHOR OF 

“l FORBID THE BANNS,” “ SALE OF A SOUL,” “THEY CALL IT 
LOVE,” “PHYLLIS OF PHILLISTIA,” ETC., ETC. 


“ Our wills and fates do so contrary run 
That our devices still are overthrown : 

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.” 

Hamlet. 



NEW YORK 




R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 

1 12 FIFTH AVENUE 



>• X • " 

*1 4 


■\ 


\ 


h 

I \ 


• / 


9 






ft 

f ' ' * 

X 

i 

I 

% 

4 J 

Copyright, 1896 

'V R. F. FFNNO & COMPANY 

vh ^ 

N 

! 

, . \i 

a : 

■ ■ . 

•i;'- , 

** 

w* 

•' 

* 4 ^^ * 


rps^y V. 

' 

^V: 






<> 




' v,<<' 


. t 







D A I R E E N, 


CHAPTER I. 

A king 

Upon whose property . . . 

A damn’d defeat was made. 

A king 

Of shreds and patches. 

The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; 
and must the inheritor himself have no more? — Hamlet. 

“ My son, ” said The Macnamara with an air of 
grandeur, “ my son, you’ve forgotten what’s due” — 
he pronounced it “jew” — to yourself, what’s due to 
your father, what’s due to your forefathers that 
bled,” and The Macnamara waved his hand grace- 
fully ; then, taking advantage of its proximity to the 
edge of the table, he made a powerful but ineffectual 
attempt to pull himself to his feet. Finding himself 
baffled by the peculiar formation of his chair, and 
not having a reserve of breath to draw upon for 
another exertion, he concealed his defeat under a 
pretence of feeling indifferent on the matter of rising, 
and continued fingering the table-edge as if endea- 
vouring to read the initials which had been carved 
pretty deeply upon the oak by a humorous guest 
just where his hand rested. “Yes, my son, you’ve 
forgotten the blood of your ancient sires. You 
forget, my son, that you’re the offspring of the 
Macnamaras and the O’Dermots, kings of Munster 
in the days when there were kings, and when the 

I 


2 


DAIREEN. 


Geralds were walking about in blue paint in the 
woods of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain ” 
— llie Macnamara said “ barbarious”. 

“The Geralds have been at Suanmara for four 
hundred years,” said Standish quickly, and in the 
tone of one resenting an aspersion. 

“Four hundred years!” cried The Macnamara 
scornfully. “ Four hundred years I What’s four hun- 
dred years in the existence of a family?” He felt 
that this was the exact instant for him to rise 
grandly to his feet, so once more he made 
the essay, but without a satisfactory result. As a 
matter of fact it is almost impossible to release 
oneself from the embrace of a heavy oak chair 
when the seat has been formed of light cane, and 
this cane has become tattered. 

“I don’t care about the kings of Munster — no, 
not a bit,” said Standish, taking a mean advantage 
of the involuntary captivity of his father to insult 
him. “I’m dead sick hearing about them. They 
never did anything for me. ” 

The Macnamara threw back his head, clasped 
his hands over his bosom, and gazed up to the 
cobwebs of the oak ceiling. “ My sires — shades 
of the Macnamaras and the O’Dermots, visit not 
the iniquity of the children upon the fathers,” he 
exclaimed. And then there came a solemn pause 
which the hereditary monarch felt should impress 
his son deeply; but the son was not deceived into 
fancying that his father was overcome with emotion ; 
he knew very well that his father was only thinking 
how with dignity he could extricate himself from 
his awkward chair, and so he was not deeply 
affected. “ My boy, my boy, ” the father murmured 
in a weak voice, after his apostrophe to the shades 
of the ceiling, “what do you mean to do? Keep 
nothing secret from me, Standish ; I’ll stand by you 
to the last.” 


DAIREEN. 


3 


“ I don’t mean to do anything. There is nothing 
to be done — at least — yet.” 

“ What’s that you say? Nothing to be done? You 
don’t mean to say you’ve been thrifling with the 
young woman’s affection? Never shall a son of 
mine, and the offspring of The Macnamaras and 
the ” 

“How can you put such a question to me?” said 
the young man indignantly. “ I throw back the 
insinuation in your teeth, though you are my father. 
I would scorn to trifle with the feelings of any lady, 
not to speak of Miss Gerald, who is purer than the 
lily that blooms ” 

“In the valley of Shanganagh — that’s what you 
said in the poem, my boy; and it’s true, I’m sure.” 

“But because you find a scrap of poetry in my 
writing you fancy that I forget my — my duty — 
my ” 

“ Mighty sires, Standish ; say the word at once, 
man. Well, may be I was too hasty, my boy; and 
if you tell me that you don’t love her now, I’ll for- 
give all.” 

“ Never,” cried the young man, with the vehemence 
of a mediaeval burning martyr. “ I swear that I 
love her, and that it would be impossible for me 
ever to think of anyone else.” 

“ This is cruel — cruel ! ” murmured The Macnamara, 
still thinking how he could extricate himself from 
his uneasy seat. “ It is cruel for a father, but it 
must be borne — it must be borne. If our ancient 
house is to degenerate to a Saxon’s level, I’m not 
to blame. Standish, my boy, I forgive you. Take 
your father’s hand.” 

He stretched out his hand, and the young man 
took it. The grasp of The Macnamara was fervent 
— it did not relax until he had accomplished the 
end he had in view, and had pulled himself to 
his feet. Standish was about to leave the room, 


4 


DAIREEN. 


when his father, turning his eyes away from the 
tattered canework of the chair, that now closely 
resembled the star-trap in a pantomime, cried, 

“ Don’t go yet, sir. This isn’t to end here. Didn’t 
you tell me that your affection was set upon this 
daughter of the Geralds?” 

“What is the use of continuing such questions?” 
cried the young man impatiently. The reiteration 
by his father of this theme — the most sacred to 
Standish’s ears — was exasperating. 

“No son of mine will be let sneak out of an 
affair like this, ” said the hereditary monarch. 
“We may be poor, sir, poor as a bogtrotter’s 
dog ” 

“And we are,” interposed Stan dish bitterly. 

“ But we have still the memories of the grand old 
times to live upon, and the name of Macnamara 
was never joined with anything but honour. You 
love that daughter of the Geralds — you’ve confessed 
it; and though the family she belongs to is one 
of these mushroom growths that’s springing up 
around us in three or four hundred years — ay, in 
spite of the upstart family she belongs to. I’ll 
give my consent to your happiness. We mustn’t be 
proud in these days, my son, though the blood 
of kings — eh, where do ye mean to be going 
before I’ve done?” 

“I thought you had finished.” 

“Did you? well, you’re mistaken. You don’t stir 
from here until you’ve promised me to make all the 
amends in your power to this daughter of the Geralds. ” 
“ Amends ? I don’t understand you. ” 

“Don’t you tell me you love her?” 

The refrain which was so delightful to the young 
man’s ears when he uttered it alone b}^ night under 
the pure stars, sounded terrible when reiterated by 
his father. But what could he do — his father was 
now upon his feet? 


DAIREEN. 


5 


“ What is the use of profaning her name in this 
fashion ? ” cried Standish. “ If I said I loved her, it 
was only when you accused me of it and threatened 
to turn me out of the house.” 

“ And out of the house you’ll go if you don’t give 
me a straightforward answer.” 

“ I don’t care,” cried Standish doggedly. “ What 
is there here that should make me afraid of your 
threat? I want to be turned out. I’m sick of this 
place. ” 

“ Heavens ! what has come over the boy that he has 
taken to speaking like this? Are ye demented, my 
son ? ” 

“No such thing,” said Standish. “Only I have 
been thinking for the past few days over my posi- 
tion here, and I have come to the conclusion that 
I couldn’t be worse off.” 

“You’ve been thinking, have you ? ” asked The Mac- 
namara contemptuously. “You depart so far from 
the traditions of your family? Well, well,” he con- 
tinued in an altered tone, after a pause, “ maybe 
I’ve been a bad father to you, Standish, maybe 

I’ve neglected my duty; maybe ” here The 

IMacnamara felt for his pocket-handkerchief, and 
having found it, he waved it spasmodically and was 
about to throw himself into his chair when he 
recollected its defects and refrained, even though 
he was well aware that he was thereby sacrificing 
much of the dramatic effect up to which he had 
been working. 

“No, father; I don’t want to say that you have 
been anything but good to me, only ” 

“ But I say it, my son, ” said The Macnamara, 
mopping his brows earnestly with his handkerchief. 
“ I’ve been a selfish old man, haven’t I, now ? ” 

“ No, no, anything but that. You have only been 
too good. You have given me all I ever wanted — 
except ** 


6 


DAIREEN. 


“Except what? Ah, I know what you mean 
except money. Ah, your reproach is bitter — bitter; 
but I deserve it all, I do.” 

“No, father: I did not say that at all.” 

“ But I’ll show you, my boy, that your father can 
be generous once of a time. You love her, don’t 
you, Standish? ” 

His father had laid his hand upon his shoulder 
now, and spoke the words in a sentimental whisper, 
so that they did not sound so profane as before. 

“I worship the ground she treads on,” his son 
answered, tremulous with eagerness, a girlish blush 
suffusing his cheeks and invading the curls upon 
his forehead, as he turned his head away. 

“ Then I’ll show you that I can be generous. You 
shall have her, Standish Macnamara; I’ll give her 
to you, though she is one of the new families. Put 
on your hat, my boy, and come out with me.” 

“ Are you going out ? ” said Standish. 

“I am, so order round the car, if the spring is 
mended. It should be, for I gave Eugene the cord 
for it yesterday.” 

Standish made a slight pause at the door as if 
about to put another question to his father; after 
a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he passed 
out in silence. 

When the door had closed — or, at least, moved 
upon its hinges, for the shifting some years previ- 
ously of a portion of the framework, made its closing 
an impossibility — The Macnamara put his hands 
deep into his pockets, jingling the copper coins and 
the iron keys that each receptacle contained. It is 
wonderful what suggestions of wealth may be given 
by the judicious handling of a few coppers and a 
bunch of keys, and the imagination of The Mac- 
namara being particularly sanguine, he felt that the 
most scrupulous moneylender would have offered 
him at that moment, on the security of his personal 


DAIREEN. 


7 


appearance and the sounds of his jingling^ metal, 
any sum of money he might have named. He 
rather wished that such a moneylender would drop 
in. But soon his thoughts changed. The jingling 
in his pockets became modified, resembling in tone 
an unsound peal of muffled bells ; he shook his head 
several times. 

“ Macnamara, my lad, you were too weak, ” he 
muttered to himself. “You yielded too soon; you 
should have stood out for a while; but how could 
I stand out when I was sitting in that trap?” 

He turned round glaring at the chair which he 
blamed as the cause of his premature relaxation. 
He seemed measuring its probable capacities of 
resistance; and then he raised his right foot and 
scrutinized the boot that covered it. It was not a 
trustworthy boot, he knew. Once more he glanced 
towards the chair, then with a sigh he put his foot 
down and walked to the window. 

Past the window at this instant .the car was 
moving, drawn by a humble-minded horse, which 
in its turn was drawn by a boy in a faded and 
dilapidated livery that had evidently been originally 
made for a remarkably tall man. The length of 
the garment, though undeniably embarrassing in the 
region of the sleeves, had still its advantages, not 
the least of which was the concealment of a large 
portion of the bare legs of the wearer; it was 
obvious too that when he should mount his seat, 
the boy’s bare feet would be effectually hidden, and 
from a livery- wearing standpoint this would certainly 
be worth consideration. 

The Macnamara gave a critical glance through 
the single transparent pane of the window — the 
pane had been honoured above its fellows by a 
polishing about six weeks before — and saw that the 
defective spring of the vehicle had been repaired. 
Coarse twine had been employed for this purpose; 


8 


DAIREEN. 


but as this material, though undoubtedly excellent 
in its way, and of very general utility, is hardly 
the most suitable for restoring a steel spring to its 
original condition of elasticity, there was a good 
deal of jerkiness apparent in the motion of the car, 
especially when the wheels turned into the numerous 
ruts of the drive. The boy at the horse’s head was, 
however, skilful in avoiding the deeper depths, and 
the animal was also most considerate in its gait, 
checking within itself any unseemly outburst of 
spirit and restraining every propensity to break 
into a trot. 

“ Now, father, I’m ready,” said Standish, entering 
with his hat on. 

“ Has Eugene brushed my hat ? ” asked The Mac- 
namara. “ My black hat, I mean ? ” 

“I didn’t know you were going to wear it to- 
day, when you were only taking a drive,” said 
Standish with some astonishment. 

“ Yes, my boy. I’ll wear the black hat, please God, 
so get it brushed; and tell him that if he uses the 
blacking-brush this time I’ll have his life. ” Standish 
went out to deliver these messages; but The Mac- 
namara stood in the centre of the big room ponder- 
ing over some weighty question. 

“ I will, ” he muttered, as though a better impulse 
of his nature were in the act of overcoming an 
unAvorthy suggestion. “Yes, I will; when I’m wearing 
the black hat things should be levelled up to that 
standard; yes, I will.” 

Standish entered in a few minutes with his father’s 
hat — a tall, old-fashioned silk hat that had at one 
time, pretty far remote, been black. The Macnamara 
put it on carefully, after he had just touched the 
edges with his coat-cuff to remove the least suspi- 
cion of dust; then he strode out followed by his son. 

The car was standing at the hall door, and Eugene 
the driver was beside it, giving a last look to the 


t)AIREEN. 


9 


cordage of the spring. When The Macnamara, 
however, appeared, he sprang up and touched his 
forehead, with a smile of remarkable breadth. The 
Macnamara stood impassive, and in dignified silence, 
looking first at the horse, then at the car, and 
finally at the boy Eugene, while Standish remained 
at the other side. Eugene bore the gaze of the 
hereditary monarch pretty well on the whole, con- 
scious of the abundance of his own coat. The 
scrutiny of The Macnamara passed gradually down 
the somewhat irregnlar row of buttons until it 
rested on the protruding bare feet of the boy. Then 
after another moment of impressive silence, he 
waved one hand gracefully towards the door, saying: 

* Eugene, get on your boots.* 


CHAPTER II. 


Let the world take note 
You are the most immediate to our throne; 

And with no less nobility of love 

Than that which dearest father bears his son 

Do I impart toward you. 

How is it that the clouds still hang on you? 

Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl. 

Hamlet. 

When the head of a community has, after due de- 
liberation, resolved upon the carrying out of any 
bold social step, he may expect to meet with the 
opposition that invariably obstructs the reformer’s 
advance ; so that one is tempted — nay, modern 
statesmanship compels one — to believe that secrecy 
until a projected design is fully matured is a wise, 
or at least an effective, policy. The military stra- 
tagem of a surprise is frequently attended with good 
results in dealing with an enemy, and as a friendly 
policy why should it not succeed? 

This was, beyond a question, the course of thought 
pursued by The Macnamara before he uttered 
those words to Eugene. He had not given the 
order without careful deliberation, but when he had 
come to the conclusion that circumstances demanded 
the taking of so bold a step, he had not hesitated 
in his utterance. 

Eugene was indeed surprised, and so also was 


DAIREEN. 


11 


Standish. The driver took off his hat and passed 
his fingers through his hair looking down to his 
bare feet, for he was in the habit of getting a few 
weeks of warning before a similar order to that 
just uttered by his master was given to him. 

“ Do you hear, or are you going to wait till the horse 
has frozen to the sod?” enquired The Macnamara; 
and this brought the mind of the boy out of the 
labyrinth of wonder into which it had strayed. He 
threw down the whip and the reins, and, tucking up 
the voluminous skirts of his coat, ran round the 
house, commenting briefly as he went along on the 
remarkable aspect things were assuming. 

Entering the kitchen from the rear, where an old 
man and two old women were sitting with short 
pipes alight, he cried, “ What’s the world cornin’ 
to at all? I’ve got to put on me boots.” 

“Holy Saint Bridget,” cried a pious old woman, 
“he’s to put on his brogues! An’ is it The Mac 
has bid ye, Eugene?” 

“ Sorra a sowl ilse. So just shake a coal in iviry 
fut to thaw thim a bit, alana.” 

While the old woman was performing this opera- 
tion over the turf fire, there was some discussion 
as to what was the nature of the circumstances that 
demanded such an unusual proceeding on the part 
of The Macnamara. 

“ It’s only The Mac himsilf that sames to know — 
knock the ashes well about the hale, ma’am — for 
Masther Standish was as much put out as mesilf 
whin The Mac says — nivir moind the toes, ma’am, 
me fut’ll nivir go more nor halfways up the sowl 
— says he, ‘ Git on yer boots ; ’ as if it was the ordi- 
narist thing in the world; — now I’ll thry an’ squaze 
me fut in. ” And he took the immense boot so soon 
as the fiery ashes had been emptied from its cavity. 

“The Mac’s pride ’ll have a fall,” remarked the 
old man in the corner sagaciously. 


12 DAIREEN. 

“I shouldn’t wondher,” said Eugene, pulling on 
one of the boots. “ The spring is patched with hemp, 
but it’s as loikely to give way as not— holy Biddy, 
ye’ve left a hot coal just at the instep that’s made 
its way to me bone ! ” But in spite of this catastro- 
phe, the boy trudged off to the car, his coat’s tails 
flapping like the foresail of a yacht brought up to 
the wind. Then he cautiously mounted his seat in 
front of the car, letting a boot protrude effectively 
on each side of the narrow board. The Macnamara 
and his son, who had exchanged no word dur- 
ing the short absence of Eugene in the kitchen, 
then took their places, the horse was aroused from 
its slumber, and they all passed down the long di- 
lapidated avenue and through the broad entrance 
between the great mouldering pillars overclung with 
ivy and strange tangled weeds, where a gate had 
once been, but where now only a rough pole was 
drawn across to prevent the trespass of strange 
animals. 

Truly pitiful it was to see such signs of dilapi- 
dation everywhere around this demesne of Innish- 
dermot. The house itself was an immense irregu- 
larly built, rambling castle. Three quarters of it 
was in utter ruin, but it had needed the combined 
efforts of eight hundred years of time and a thou- 
sand of Cromwell’s soldiers to reduce the walls to 
the condition in which they were at present. The 
five rooms of the building that were habitable be- 
longed to a comparatively new wing, which was 
supported on the eastern side by the gable of a 
small chapel, and on the western by the wall of a 
great round tower which stood like a demolished 
sugar-loaf high above all the ruins, and lodged a 
select number of immense owls whose eyesight was 
so extremely sensitive, it required an unusual amount 
of darkness for its preservation. 

This was the habitation of The Macnamaras, he- 


DAIREEN. 


13 


reditary kings of Munster, and here it was that the 
existing representative of the royal family lived with 
his only son, Standish O’Dermot Macnamara. In 
front of the pile stretched a park, or rather what 
had once been a park, but which was now wild 
and tangled as any wood. It straggled down to 
the coastway of the lough, which, with as many 
windings as a Norwegian fjord, brought the green 
waves of the Atlantic for twenty miles between 
coasts a thousand feet in height — coasts which were 
black and precipitous and pierced with a hundred 
mighty caves about the headlands of the entrance, 
but which became wooded and more gentle of slope 
towards the narrow termination of the basin. The 
entire of one coastway, from the cliffs that broke 
the wild buffet of the ocean rollers, to the little 
island that lay at the narrowing of the waters, was 
the property of The Macnamara. This was all that 
had been left to die house which had once held 
sway over two hundred miles of coastway, from the 
kingdom of Kerry to Achill Island, and a hundred 
miles of riverway. Pasturages the richest of the 
world, lake-lands the most beautiful, mountains the 
grandest, woods and moors — all had been ruled 
over by The Macnamaras, and of all, only a strip 
of coastway and a ruined castle remained to the 
representative of the ancient house, who was now 
passing on a jaunting-car between the dilapidated 
pillars at the entrance to his desolate demesne. 

On a small hill that came in sight so soon as 
the car had passed from under the gaunt fantastic 
branches that threw themselves over the wall at the 
roadside, as if making a scrambling clutch at some- 
thing indefinite in the air, a ruined tower stood out 
in relief against the blue sky of this August day. 
Seeing the ruin in this land of ruins The Macnamara 
sighed heavily — too heavily to allow of anyone 
fancying that his emotion was natural. 


DAIREEN. 


14 

“Ah, my son, the times have changed,* he 
said. “ Only a few years have passed — six hundred 
or so — since young Brian Macnamara left that 
very castle to ask the daughter of the great Des- 
mond of the Lake in marriage. How did he go 
out, my boy?” 

“ You don’t mean that we are now ” 

“How did he go out?” again asked The Mac- 
namara, interrupting his son’s words of astonishment. 
“He went out of that castle with three hundred 
and sixty-five knights — for he had as many knights 
as there are days in the year.” — Here Eugene, who 
only caught the phonetic sense of this remarkable 
fact regarding young Brian Macnamara, gave a grin 
which his master detected and chastised by a blow 
from his stick upon the mighty livery coat. 

“But, father,” said Standish, after the trifling ex- 
citement occasioned by this episode had died 
away — “ But, father, we are surely not going ” 

“ Hush, my son. The young Brian and his 
retinue went out one August day like this; and 
with him was the hundred harpers, the fifty pipers, 
and the thirteen noble chiefs of the Lakes, all 
mounted on the finest of steeds and the morning 
sun glittering on their gems and jewels as if they 
had been drops of dew. And so they rode to the 
castle of Desmond, and when he shut the gates in 
the face of the noble retinue and sent out a haughty 
message that, because the young Prince Brian had 
slain The Desmond’s two sons, he would not admit 
him as a suitor to his daughter, the noble young 
prince burnt The Desmond’s tower to the ground 
and carried off the daughter who, as the bards all 
agree, was the loveliest of her sex. Ah, that was 
a wooing worthy of The Macnamaras. These are the 
degenerate days when a prince of The Macnamaras 
goes on a broken-down car to ask the hand of a 
daughter of the Geralds.” 


DAIREEN. 


15 


Here a low whistle escaped from Eugene, and 
he looked down at his boots just as The Mac- 
namara delivered another rebuke to him of the 
same nature as the former. 

“ But we’re not going to — to — Suanmara ! ” cried 
Standish in dismay. 

“ Then where are we going, may be you’ll tell me ? ” 
said his father. 

“Not there — not there; you never said you were 
going there. Why should we go there ? ” 

“Just for the same reason that your noble fore- 
father Brian Macnamara went to the tower of The 
Desmond,” said the father, leaving it to Standish to 
determine which of the noble acts of the somewhat 
impetuous young prince their present excursion was 
designed to emulate. 

“Do you mean to say, father, that — that — oh, no 
one could think of such a thing as ” 

“ My son, ” said the hereditary monarch coolly, 
“ you made a confession to me this morning that only 
leaves me one course. The honour of The Mac- 
namaras is at stake, and as the representative of the 
family it’s my duty to preserve it untarnished. 
When a son of mine confesses his affection for a 
lady, the only course he can pursue towards her 
is to marry her, let her even be a Gerald.” 

“I won’t go on such a fool’s errand,” cried the 
young man. “She — her grandfather — they would 
laugh at such a proposal.” 

“ The Desmond laughed, and what came of it, my 
boy ? ” said The Macnamara sternly. 

“I will not go on any further,” cried Standish, 
unawed by the reference to the consequences of the 
inopportune hilarity of The Desmond. “ How could 
you think that I would have the presumption to 
fancy for the least moment that — that — she — that 
is — that they would listen to — to anything I might 
say ? Oh, the idea is absurd ! ” 


i6 


DATREEN. 


“My boy, I am the head of the line of The 
Munster Macnamaras, and the head always decides 
in delicate matters like this. I’ll not have the 
feelings of the lady trifled with even by a son of 
my own. Didn’t you confess all to me?” 

“I will not go on,” the young man cried again. 
“ She — that is — they will think that we mean an 
affront — and it is a gross insult to her — to them — 
to even fancy that — oh, if we were anything but 
what we are there would be some hope — some 
chance; if I had only been allowed my own way 
I might have won her in time — long years perhaps, 
but still some time. But now ” 

“Recreant son of a noble house, have you no 
more spirit than a Saxon ? ” said the father, trying 
to assume a dignified position, an attempt that the 
jerking of the imperfect spring of the vehicle frus- 
trated. “ Mightn’t the noblest family in Europe 
think it an honour to be allied with The Munster 
Macnamaras, penniless though we are?” 

“Don’t go to-day, father,” said Standish, almost 
piteously; “no, not to-day. It is too sudden — my 
mind is not made up.” 

“ But mine is, my boy. Haven’t I prepared 
everything so that there can be no mistake ? ” — here 
he pressed his tall hat more firmly upon his fore- 
head and glanced towards Eugene’s boots that 
projected a considerable way beyond the line of 
the car. “ My boy, ” he continued, “ The Macnamaras 
descend to ally themselves with any other family 
only for the sake of keeping up the race. It’s 
their solemn duty.” 

“ I’ll not go on any further on such an errand — 
I will not be such a fool,” said Standish, making a 
movement on his side of the car. 

“ My boy,” said The Macnamara unconcernedly, 
“ My boy, you can get off at any moment ; your 
presence will make no difference in the matter. 


DAIREEN. 


17 


The matrimonial alliances of The Macnamaras are 
family matters, not individual. The liead of the race 
only is accountable to posterity for the consequences 
of the acts of them under him. I’m llie head of the 
race.” He removed his hat and looked upward, 
somewhat jerkily, but still impressively. 

Standish Macnamara’s eyes flashed and his hands 
clenched themselves over the rail of the car, but 
he did not make any attempt to carry out his 
threat of getting off. He did not utter another 
word. How could he? It was torture to him to 
hear his father discuss beneath the ear of the boy 
Eugene such a question as his confession of love 
for a certain lady. It was terrible for him to 
observe the expression of interest which was 
apparent upon the ingenuous face of Eugene, and 
to see his nods of approval at the words of The 
Macnamara. What could poor Standish do beyond 
closing his teeth very tightly and clenching his 
hands madly as the car jerked its way along the 
coast of Lough Suangorm, in view of a portion of 
the loveliest scenery in the world? 


f 


CHAPTER m. 


How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world. 

Gather by him, as he is behaved. 

If ’t be the afflietion of his love or no 
That thus he suffers for. 

Break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. 

Hamlet. 

The road upon which the car was driving was made 
round an elevated part of the coast of the lough. 
It curved away from where the castle of The Mac- 
namaras was situated on one side of the water, to 
the termination of the lough. It did not slope 
downwards in the least at any part, but swept on 
to the opposite lofty shore, five hundred feet above 
the great rollers from the Atlantic that spent them- 
selves amongst the half-hidden rocks. 

The car jerked on in silence after The Mac- 
namara had spoken his impressive sentence. Stand- 
ish^s hands soon relaxed their passionate hold upon 
the rail of the car, and, in spite of his conscious- 
ness of being twenty-three years of age, he found 
it almost impossible to restrain his tears of mortifi- 
cation from bursting their bonds. He knew how 
pure — how fervent — how exhaustless was the love 
that filled all his heart. He had been loving, not 
without hope, but without utterance, for years, 
and now all the fruit of his patience — of his years 


DAIREEN. 


19 


of speechlessness — would be blighted by the ridi~ 
culous action of his father. What would now be 
left for him in the world, he asked himself, and the 
despairing tears of his heart gave him his only answer. 

He was on the seaward side of the car, which 
was now passing out of the green shade of the 
boughs that for three miles overhung the road. 
Then as the curve of the termination of the lough 
was approached, the full panorama of sea and coast 
leapt into view, with all the magical glamour those 
wrizards Motion and Height can enweave round a 
scene. Far beneath, the narrow band of blue water 
lost itself amongst the steep cliffs. The double 
coasts of the lough that were joined at the point 
of vision, broadened out in undulating heights towards 
the mighty headlands of the entrance that lifted up 
their hoary brows as the lion-waves of the Atlantic 
leapt between them and crouched in unwieldy bulk 
at their bases. Far away stretched that ocean, its 
horizon lost in mist; and above the line of rugged 
coast-cliff arose mountains — mighty masses tumbled 
together in black confusion, like Titanic gladiators 
locked in the close throes of the wrestle. 

Never before had the familiar scene so taken Standish 
in its arms, so to speak, as it did now. He felt it 
He looked down at the green islands of the lough 
encircled with the floss of the moving waters; he 
looked along the slopes of the coasts with the ruins 
of ancient days on their summits, then his eyes went 
out to where the sun dipped towards the Atlantic, 
and he felt no more that passion of mortification 
which his reflections had aroused. Quickly as it 
had sprung into view the scene dissolved as the 
car entered a glen, dim in the shadow of a great 
hill whose slope, swathed in purple heather to its 
highest peak, made a twilight at noon-day to all 
beneath. In the distance of the winding road beyond 
the dark edge of the mountain were seen the gray 


20 


DAIREEN. 


ridges of another range running far inland With 
the twilight shadow of the glen, the shadow seemed 
to come again over the mind of Standish. He gave 
himself up to his own sad thoughts, and when, 
from a black tarn amongst the low pine-trees beneath 
the road, a tall heron rose and fled silently through 
the silent air to the foot of the slope, he regarded 
it ominously, as he would have done a raven. 

There they sat speechless upon the car. The 
Macnamara, who was a short middle-aged man with 
a rather highly-coloured face, and features that not 
even the most malignant could pronounce of a Roman 
or even of a Saxon type, was sitting in silent 
dignity of which he seemed by no means unconscious. 
Standish, who was tall, slender almost to a point 
of lankness, and gray-eyed, was morosely speechless, 
his father felt. Nature had not given The Macnamara 
a son after his own heart. The young man’s features, 
that had at one time showed great promise of 
developing into the pure Milesian, had not fulfilled 
the early hope they had raised in his father’s bosom; 
they had within the past twelve years exhibited a 
downward tendency that was not in keeping with 
the traditions of The Macnamaras. If the direction 
of the caressing hand of Nature over the features 
of the family should be reversed, what would remain 
to distinguish The Macnamaras from their Saxon 
invaders? This was a question whose weight had 
for some time oppressed the representative of the 
race; and he could only quiet his apprehension by 
the assurance which forced itself upon his mind, 
that Nature would never persist in any course 
prejudicial to her own interests in the maintenance 
of an irreproachable type of manhood. 

Then it was a great grief to the father to become 
aware of the fact that the speech of Standish was 
all unlike his own in accent ; it was, indeed, terribly 
like the ordinary Saxon speech — at least it sounded 


DAIREEN. 


21 


SO to The Macnamara whose vowels were diphthongic 
to a marked degree. But of course the most dis- 
tressing reflection of the head of the race had reference 
to the mental disqualifications of his son to sustain 
the position which he would some day have to 
occupy as The Macnamara; for Standish had of 
late shown a tendency to accept the position 
accorded to him by the enemies of his race, and to 
allow that there existed a certain unwritten statute 
of limitations in the maintenance of the divine right 
of monarchs. He actually seemed to be under the 
impression that because nine hundred years had 
elapsed since a Macnamara had been the acknow- 
ledged king of Munster, the claim to be regarded 
as a royal family should not be strongly urged. 
This was very terrible to The Macnamara. And 
now he reflected upon all these matters as he held 
in a fixed and fervent grasp the somewhat untrust- 
worthy rail of the undoubtedly shaky vehicle. 

Thus in silence the car was driven through the 
dim glen until the slope on the seaward-side of the 
road dwindled away and once more the sea came 
in sight; and, with the first glimpse of the sea, the 
square tower of an old, though not an ancient, castle 
that stood half hidden by trees at the base of the 
purple mountain. In a few minutes the car pulled 
up at the entrance gate to a walled demesne. 

“ Will yer honours git off here ? ” asked Eugene, 
preparing to throw the reins down. 

“ Never ! ” cried The Macnamara emphatically. 
“ Never will the head of the race descend to walk up 
to the door of a foreigner. Drive up to the very 
hall, Eugene, as the great Brian Macnamara would 
have done.” 

“ An’ it’s hopin’ I am that his car-sphrings wouldn’t 
be mindid with hemp, ” remarked the boy, as he pulled 
the horse round and urged his mild career through 
the great pillars at the entrance. 


22 


DAIREEN. 


Everything about this place gave signs of having 
been cared for. The avenue was long, but it could 
be traversed without any risk of the vehicle being 
lost in the landslip of a rut. The grass around the 
trees, though by no means trimmed at the edges, 
was still not dank with weeds, and the trees them- 
selves if old had none of the gauntness apparent 
in all the timber about the castle of The Macnamara. 
As the car went along there was visible every now 
and again the flash of branching antlers among the 
green foliage, and more than once the stately head 
of a red deer appeared gazing at the visitors, motion- 
less as if the animal had been a painted statue. 

The castle, opposite whose black oak door Eugene 
at last dropped his reins, was by no means an 
imposing building. It was large and square, and at 
one wing stood the square ivy-covered tower that 
was seen from the road. Above it rose the great 
dark mountain ridge, and in front rolled the 
Atlantic, for the trees prevented the shoreway from 
being seen. 

“ Eugene, knock at the door of the Geralds, ” said 
The Macnamara from his seat on the car, with a 
dignity the emphasis of which would have been 
diminished had he dismounted. 

Eugene looked upward at this order, shook his 
head in wonderment, and then got down, but not 
with quite the same expedition as his boot, which 
could not sustain the severe test of being suspended 
for any time in the air. He had not fully secured 
it again on his bare foot before a laugh sounded 
from the balcony over the porch — a laugh that made 
Standish's face redder than any rose — that made 
Eugene glance up with a grin and touch his hat, 
even before a girl’s voice was heard saying: 

“ Oh, Eugene, Eugene! What a clumsy fellow 
you are, to be sure.” 

“Ah, don’t be a sayin’ of that, Miss Daireen, 



“Enter, O my King,.” said she,, giving the Macnaniara her 
hand.— Page 23,, 



24 


DAIREEN. 


I hope,” said the girl, as they stood together under 
the battle-axes of the brave days of old, when the 
qualifications for becoming a successful knight and 
a successful blacksmith were identical. 

“ We drove round to admire the beauty of the 
lovely Daireen, ” said The Macnamara, with a flourish 
of the hand that did him infinite credit. 

“If that is all,” laughed the girl, “your visit will 
not be a long one. ” She was standing listlessly caress- 
ing with her hand the coarse hide of King Cormac, 
a gigantic wolf-dog, and in that posture looked like 
a statue of the Genius of her country. The dog 
had been welcoming Standish a moment before, and 
the young man’s hand still resting upon its head, 
felt the casual touch of the girl’s fingers as she 
played with the animal’s ears. Every touch sent a 
thrill of passionate delight through him. 

“ The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds is 
worth coming so far to see; and now that I look 
at her before me ” 

“Now you know that it is impossible to make 
out a single feature in this darkness, ” said Daireen. 
“So come along into the drawing-room.” 

“Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy,” said The 
Macnamara, as the girl led the way across the hall. 
“For myself, I think. I’ll just turn in here.” He 
opened a door at one side of the hall and exposed 
to view, within the room beyond, a piece of ancient 
furniture which was not yet too decrepit to sustain the 
burden of a row of square glass bottles and tumblers. 
But before he entered he whispered to Standish with 
an appropriate action, “ Make it all right with her 
by the time I come back.” And so he vanished. 

“The Macnamara is right,” said Daireen. “You 
must join him in taking a glass of wine after your 
long drive, Standish.” 

For the first time since he had spoken on the 
car Standish found his voice. 


DAIREEN. 


25 


"T do not want to drink anything, Daireen,” he 
said. 

“ Then we shall go round to the garden and try 
to find grandpapa, if you don’t want to rest.” 

With her brown unbonneted hair tossing in its 
irregular strands about her neck, she went out by 
a door at the farther end of the square hall, and 
Standish followed her by a high-arched passage that 
seemed to lead right through the building. At the 
extremity was an iron gate which the girl unlocked, 
and they passed into a large garden somewhat wild 
in its growth, but with its few brilliant spots of 
colour well brought out by the general feeling of 
purple that forced itself upon everyone beneath the 
shadow of the great mountain-peak. Very lovely 
did that world of heather seem now as the sun 
burned over against the slope, stirring up the wonder- 
ful secret hues of dark blue and crimson. The 
peak stood out in bold relief against the pale sky, 
and above its highest point an eagle sailed. 

“ I have such good news for you, Standish, ” said 
Miss Gerald. “ You cannot guess what it is. ” 

“ I cannot guess what good news there could 
possibly be in store for me,” he replied, with so 
much sadness in his voice that the girl gave a little 
start, and then the least possible smile, for she was 
well aware that the luxury of sadness was frequently 
indulged in by her companion. 

“It is good news for you, for me, for all of us, 

for all the world, for well, for everybody that 

I have not included. Don’t laugh at me, please, 
for my news is that papa is coming home at last. 
Now, isn’t that good news?” 

“I am very glad to hear it,” said Standish. “I 
am very glad because I know it will make you 
happy.” 

“ How nicely said ; and I know you feel it, my 
dear Standish. Ah, poor papa! he has had a hard 


26 


DAIREEN. 


time of it, battling with the terrible Indian climate 
and with those annoying people.” 

“It is a life worth living,” cried Standish. “After 
you are dead the world feels that you have lived 
in it. The world is the better for your life.” 

“You are right,” said Daireen. “ Papa leaves India 
crowned with honours, as the newspapers say. The 
Queen has made him a C.B., you know. But- 
only think how provoking it is — he has been ordered 
by the surgeon of his regiment to return by long- 
sea, instead of overland, for the sake of his health; 
so that though I got his letter from Madras yester- 
day to tell me that he was at the point of starting, 
it will be another month before I can see him.” 

“ But then he will no doubt have completely 
recovered,” said Standish. 

“That is my only consolation. Yes; he will be 
himself again — himself as I saw him five years ago 
in our bungalow — how well I remember it and its 
single plantain- tree in the garden where the officers 
used to hunt me for kisses.” 

Standish frowned. It was, to him, a hideous 
recollection for the girl to have. He would cheer- 
fully have undertaken the strangulation of each of 
those sportive officers. “ I should have learned a 
gTeat deal during these five years that have passed 
since I was sent to England to school, but I’m 
afraid I didn’t. Never mind, papa won’t cross- 
examine me to see if his money has been wasted. 
But why do you look so sad, Standish? You do 
look sad, you know.” 

“I feel it too,” he cried. “I feel more wretched 
than I can tell you. I’m sick of everything here 
— no, not here, you know, but at home. There I 
am in that cursed jail, shut out from the world, a 
beggar without the liberty to beg.” 

“Oh, Standish!” 

“But it is the truth, Daireen. I might as well 


DAIREEN. 


27 


be dead as living as I am. Yes, better — I wish to 
God I was dead, for then there might be at leeist 
some chance of making a beginning in a new sort 
of life under different conditions.” 

“Isn’t it wicked to talk that way, Standish?” 

“ I don’t know, ” he replied doggedly. “ Wickedness 
and goodness have ceased to be anything more to 
me than vague conditions of life in a world I have 
nothing to say to. I cannot be either good or 
bad here.” 

Daireen looked very solemn at this confession of 
impotence. 

“ You told me you meant to speak to The Mac- 
namara about going away or doing something,” 
she said. 

“ And I did speak to him, but it came to the one 

end: it was a disgrace for the son of the bah, 

you know how he talks. Every person of any 
position laughs at him ; only those worse than him- 
self think that he is wronged. But I’ll do something, 
if it should only be to enlist as a common soldier.” 

“ Standish, do not talk that way, like a good boy, ” 
she said, laying her hand upon his arm. “I have 
a bright thought for the first time: wait just for 
another month until papa is here, and he will, you 
may be sure, tell you what is exactly right to do. 
Oh, there is grandpapa, with his gun as usual, 
coming fi-om the hill.” 

They saw at a little distance the figure of a tall 
old man carrying a gun, and followed by a couple 
of sporting dogs. 

“Daireen,” said Standish, stopping suddenly as it 
a thought had just struck him. “Daireen, promise 
me that you will not let anything my father may 
say here to-day make you think badly of me. ” 

“Good gracious! why should I ever do that? 
What is he going to say that is so dreadful?” 

“ I cannot tell you, Daireen ; but you will promise 


28 


DAIREEN. 


me;” he had seized her by the hand and was look- 
ing with earnest entreaty into her eyes. “Daireen,” 
he continued, “you will give me your word. You 
have been such a friend to me always — such a good 
angel to me. ” 

“And we shall always be friends, Standish. I 
promise you this. Now let go my hand, like a 
good boy.” 

He obeyed her, and in a few minutes they had 
met Daireen’s grandfather, Mr. Gerald, who had 
been coming towards them. 

“ What, The Macnamara here ? then I must hasten 
to him,” said the old gentleman, handing his gun 
to Standish. 

No one knew better than Mr. Gerald the necessity 
that existed for hastening to The Macnamara in 
case of his waiting for a length of time in that 
room the sideboard of which was laden with bottlesv, 


CHAPTER IV. 

And now, Laertes, what’s the news with you? 

You told us of some suit; what is’t, Laertes? 

He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave 

By laboursome petition; and at last. 

Upon his will I sealed my hard consent. 

Horatio. There’s no offence, my lord. 

Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio; 

And much offence too. — Hamlet. 

The Macnamara had been led away from his 
companionship in that old oak room by the time 
his son and Miss Gerald returned from the garden, 
and the consciousness of his own dignity seemed 
to have increased considerably since they had left 
him. This emotion was a variable possession with 
him : anyone acquainted with his habits could with- 
out difficulty, from knowing the degree of dignity 
he manifested at any moment, calculate minutely 
the space of time he must of necessity have spent 
in a room furnished similarly to that he had just 
now left. 

He was talking pretty loudly in the room to 
which he had been led by Mr. Gerald when Daireen 
and Standish entered ; and beside him was a white- 
haired old lady whom Standish greeted as Mrs. 
Gerald and the girl called grandmamma — an old 
lady with very white hair but with large dark eyes 
whose lustre remained yet undimmed. 

29 


30 


DAIREEN. 


“Standish will reveal the mystery,” said this old 
lady, as the young man shook hands with her. 
“ Your father has been speaking in proverbs, Stand- 
ish, and we want your assistance to read them.” 

“He is my son,” said The Macnamara, waving 
his hand proudly and lifting up his head. “ He will 
hear his father speak on his behalf. Head of 
the Geralds, Gerald-na-Tor, chief of the hills, the 
last of The Macnamaras, kings of Munster, Innish- 
dermot, and all islands, comes to you.” 

“And I am honoured by his visit, and glad to 
find him looking so well, ” said Mr. Gerald. “ I am 
only sorry you can^t make it suit you to come 
oftener, Macnamara.” 

“Ifs that boy Eugene that’s at fault,” said The 
Macnamara, dropping so suddenly into a colloquial 
speech from his eloquent Ossianic strain that one 
might have been led to believe his opening words 
were somewhat forced. “ Yes, my lad, ” he continued, 
addressing Mr. Gerald; “that Eugene is either 
breaking the springs or the straps or his own 
bones.” Here he recollected that his mission was 
not one to be expressed in this ordinary vein. He 
straightened himself in an instant, and as he went 
on asserted even more dignity than before. “ Gerald, 
you know my position, don’t you? and you know your 
own ; but you can’t say, can you, that The Macnamara 
ever held himself aloof from your table by any show 
of pride ? I mixed with you as if we were equals.” 

Again he waved his hand patronizingly, but no 
one showed the least sign of laughter. Standish 
was in front of one of the windows leaning his 
head upon his hand as he looked out to the misty 
ocean. “Yes, I’ve treated you at all times as if you 
had been born of the land, though this ground we 
tread on this moment was tom from the grasp of 
The Macnamaras by fraud.” 

“True, tme— six hundred years ago,” remarked 


:dair£en. 


31 


Mr. Gerald. He had been so frequently reminded 
of this fact during his acquaintance with The Mac- 
namara, he could afford to make the concession he 
now did. 

“But IVe not let that rankle in my heart, ” continued 
The Macnamara; “ I’ve descended to break bread with 
you and to drink — drink water with you — ay, at 
times. You know my son too, and you know that 
if he’s not the same as his father to the backbone, 
it’s not his father that’s to blame for it. It was 
the last wish of his poor mother — rest her soul ! — 
that he should be schooled outside our country, 
and you know that I carried out her will, though it 
cost me dear. He’s been back these four years, as 
you know— what’s he looking out at at the window ? — 
but it’s only three since he found out the pearl of the 
Lough Suangorm — the diamond of Slieve Docas — the 
beautiful daughter of the Geralds. Ay, he confessed 
to me this morning where his soft heart had turned, 
poor boy. Don’t be blushing, Standish; the blood 
of The Macnamaras shouldn’t betray itself in their 
cheeks.” 

Standish had started away from the window before 
his father had ended; his hands were clenched, and 
his cheeks were burning with shame. He could 
not fail to see the frown that was settling down 
upon the face of Mr. Gerald. But he dared not 
even glance towards Daireen. 

“My dear Macnamara, we needn’t talk on this 
subject any farther just now,” said the girl’s grand- 
father, as the orator paused for an instant. 

But The Macnamara only gave his hand another 
wave before he proceeded. “I have promised my 
boy to make him happy, ” he said, “ and you know 
what the word of a Macnamara is worth even 
to his son; so, though I confess I was taken aback 
at first, yet I at last consented to throw over my 
natural family pride and to let my boy have his 


32 


DAIREEN. 


way. An alliance between the Macnamaras and the 
Geralds is not what would have been thought about 
a few years ago, but The Macnamaras have always 
been condescending.” 

“ Yes, yes, you condescend to a jest now and 
again with us, but really this is a sort of mystery 
I have no clue to,” said Mr. Gerald. 

“ Mystery ? Ay, it will astonish the world to 
know that The Macnamara has given his consent 
to such an alliance; it must be kept secret for a 
while for fear of its effects upon the foreign States 
that have their eyes upon all our steps. I wouldn’t 
like this made a State affair at all.” 

“ My dear Macnamara, you are usually very lucid, ” 
said Mr. Gerald, “but to-day I somehow cannot 
arrive at your meaning.” 

“ What, sir? ” cried The Macnamara, giving his 
head an angry twitch. “What, sir, do you mean 
to tell me that you don’t understand that I have 
given my consent to my son taking as his wife 
the daughter of the Geralds? — see how the lovely 
Daireen blushes like a rose.” 

Daireen was certainly blushing, as she left her' 
seat and went over to the furthest end of the room. 
But Standish was deadly pale, his lips tightly 
closed. 

“Macnamara, this is absurd — quite absurd!” said 
Mr. Gerald, hastily rising. “Pray let us talk no 
more in such a strain.” 

Then The Macnamara’s consciousness of his own 
dignity asserted itself. He drew himself up and 
threw back his head. “ Sir, do you mean to put an 
affront upon the one who has left his proper station 
to raise your family to his own level?” 

“Don’t let us quarrel, Macnamara; you know 
how highly I esteem you personally, and you know 
that I have ever looked upon the family of the 
Macnamaras as the noblest in the land.” 


DAIREEN. 


33 


“ And it is the noblest in the land. There’s not 
a drop of blood in our veins that hasn’t sprung 
from the heart of a king,” cried The Macnamara. 

“ Yes, yes, I know it; but — well, we will not talk 
any further to-day. Daireen, you needn’t go away.” 

“ Heavens ! do you mean to say that I haven’t 
spoken plainly enough, that ” 

“ Now, Macnamara, I must really interrupt you ” 

“ Must you ? ” cried the representative of the ancient 
line, his face developing all the secret resources of 
redness it possessed. “ Must you interrupt the 
hereditary monarch of the country where you’re but 
an immigrant when he descends to equalize himself 
with you? This is the reward of condescension! 
Enough, sir, you have affronted the family that were 
living in castles when your forefathers were like 
beasts in caves. The offer of an alliance ought to 
have come from you, not from me; but never again 
will it be said that The Macnamara forgot what was 
due to him and his family. No, by the powers, 
Gerald, you’ll never have the chance again. I scorn 
you; I reject your alliance. The Macnamara seats 
himself once more upon his ancient throne, and he 
tramples upon you all. Come, my son, look at 
him that has insulted your family — look at him for 
the last time and lift up your head.” 

The grandeur with which The Macnamara uttered 
this speech was overpowering. He had at its con- 
clusion turned towards poor Standish, and waved 
his hand in the direction of Mr. Gerald. Then 
Standish seemed to have recovered himself. 

“ No, father, it is you who have insulted this 
family by talking as you have done,” he cried 
passionately. 

“ Boy I ” shouted The Macnamara. “Recreant son 
of a noble race, don’t demean yourself with such 
language 1 ” 

“It is you who have demeaned our family,” cried 

3 


34 


DAIREEN. 


the son still more energetically. “You have sunk 
us even lower than we were before.” Then he turned 
imploringly towards Mr. Gerald. “You know — 
you know that I am only to be pitied, not blamed, 
for my father’s words,” he said quietly, and then 
went to the door. 

“ My dear boy,” said the old lady, hastening 
towards him. 

“ Madam ! ” cried The Macnamara, raising his arm 
majestically to stay her. 

She stopped in the centre of the room. Daireen 
had also risen, her pure eyes full of tears as she 
grasped her grandfather’s hand while he laid his 
other upon her head. 

From the door Standish looked with passionate 
gratitude back to the girl, then rushed out. 

But The Macnamara stood for some moments 
with his head elevated, the better to express the 
scorn that was in his heart. No one made a motion, 
and then he stalked after his son. 


CHAPTER V. 

What advancement may I hope from tliee 

That no revenue hast . . . 

To feed and clothe thee? 

Guildenstern, The King, sir, — 

Hamlet. Ay, sir, what of him? 

Guild. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered, 

Hamlet. With drink, sir? 

Guild. No, my lord, rather with choler. 

Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, 
Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels. 

• • • 

Horatio. Is it a custom? 

Hamlet, Ay, marry is’t: 

But to my mind, though I am native here, 

And to the manner born, it is a custom 

More honour’d in the breach than the observance. 

This heavy-headed revel . . . 

Makes us traduced and taxed. — Hamlet. 

To do The Macnamara justice, while he was driving 
homeward upon that very shaky car round the 
lovely coast, he was somewhat disturbed in mind 
as he reflected upon the possible consequences of 
his quarrel with old Mr. Gerald. He was dimly 
conscious of the truth of the worldly and undeniably 
selfish maxim referring to the awkwardness of a 
quarrel with a neighbour. And if there is any truth 
in it as a general maxim, its value is certainly 
intensified when the neighbour in question has been 
the lender of sundry sums of money. A neighbour 

35 


36 


DAIREEN. 


under these conditions should not be quarrelled 
with, he knew. 

The Macnamara had borrowed from Mr. Gerald, 
at various times, certain moneys which had amounted 
in the aggregate to a considerable sum; for though 
Daireen’s grandfather was not possessed of a very 
large income from the land that had been granted 
to his ancestors some few hundred years before, 
he had still enough to enable him from time to 
time to oblige The Macnamara with a loan. And 
this reflection caused The Macnamara about as 
much mental uneasiness as the irregular motion of 
the vehicle did physical discomfort. By the time, 
however, that the great hill, whose heather slope 
was now wrapped in the purple shade of twilight, 
its highest peak alone being bathed in the red glory 
of the sunset, was passed, his mind was almost at 
ease; for he recalled the fact that his misunderstandings 
with Mr. Gerald were exactly equal in number to 
his visits; he never passed an hour at Suanmara 
without what would at any rate have been a quarrel 
but for Mr. Gerald’s good nature, which refused to 
be rufiled. And as no reference had ever upon 
these occasions been made to his borrowings. The 
Macnamara felt that he had no reason to conclude 
that his present quarrel would become embarrassing 
through any action of Mr. Gerald’s. So he tried 
to feel the luxury of the scorn that he had so 
powerfully expressed in the room at Suanmara. 

“ Mushrooms of a night’s growth ! ” he muttered. 
“ I trampled them beneath my feet. They may go 
down on their knees before me now. I’ll have nothing 
to say to them.” Then as the car passed out of 
the glen and he saw before him the long shadows 
of the hills lying amongst the crimson and yellow 
flames that swept from the sunset out on the Atlantic, 
and streamed between the headlands at the entrance 
to the lough, he became more fixed in his resolution. 


DAIREEN. 


37 


“ The son of The Macnamara will never wed with 
the daughter of a man that is paid by the oppressors 
of the country, no, never ! ” 

This was an allusion to the fact of Daireen’s 
father being a colonel in the British army, on service 
in India. Then exactly between the headlands the 
sun went down in a gorgeous mist that was permeated 
with the glow of the orb it enveloped. The waters 
shook and trembled in the light, but the many 
islands of the lough remained dark and silent in 
the midst of the glow. The Macnamara became 
more resolute still. He had almost forgotten that 
he had ever borrowed a penny from Mr. Gerald. 
He turned to where Standish sat silent and almost 
grim. 

“ And you, boy,” said the father — “ you, that threw 
your insults in my face — you, thaf s a disgrace to the 
family — IVe made up my mind what Til do with 
you; I’ll — yes, by the powers. I’ll disinherit you.” 

But not a word did Standish utter in reply to 
this threat, the force of which, coupled with an 
expressive motion of the speaker, jeopardized the 
imperfect spring, and wrung from Eugene a sudden 
exclamation. 

“Holy mother o’ Saint Malachi, kape the sthring 
from breakin’ yit awhile ! ” he cried devoutly. 

And it seemed that the driver’s devotion was 
efficacious, for, without any accident, the car reached 
the entrance to Innishdermot, as the residence of 
the ancient monarchs had been called since the days 
when the waters of Lough Suangorm had flowed 
all about the castle slope, for even the lough had 
become reduced in strength. 

The twilight, rich and blue, was now swathing 
the mountains and overshadowing the distant cliffs, 
though the waters at their base were steel gray and 
full of light that seemed to shine upwards through 
their depth. Desolate, truly, the ruins loomed through 


3S 


DAIREEN. 


the dimness. Only a single feeble light glimmered 
from one of the panes, and even this seemed agonizing 
to the owls, for they moaned wildly and continuously 
from the round tower. There was, indeed, scarcely 
an aspect of welcome in anything that surrounded 
this home which one family had occupied for seven 
hundred years. 

As the car stopped at the door, however, there 
came a voice from an unseen figure, saying, in even 
a more pronounced accent than The Macnamara 
himself gloried in, “Wilcome, ye noble sonns of 
noble soyers! Wilcome back to the anshent home 
of the gloryous race that’ll stand whoile there’s a 
sod of the land to bear it.” 

“It’s The Randal himself,” said The Macnamara, 
looking in the direction from which the sound came. 
“ And where is it that you are, Randal ? Oh, I see 
your pipe shining like a star out of the ivy.” 

From the forest of ivy that clung about the porch 
of the castle the figure of a small man emerged. 
One of his hands was in his pocket, the other 
removed a short black pipe, the length of whose 
stem in comparison to the breadth of its bowl was 
as the proportion of FalstafFs bread to his sack. 

“Wilcome back, Macnamara,” said this gentleman, 
who was indeed The Randal, hereditary chief of 
Suangorm. “An’ Standish too, how are ye, my 
boy ? ” Standish shook hands with the speaker, but 
did not utter a word. “An’ where is it ye’re afther 
dhrivin’ firom?” continued The Randal. 

“ It’s a long drive and a long story,” said The 
Macnamara. 

“ Thin for hivin’s sake don’t begin it till we’ve 
put boy the dinner. I’m goin’ to take share with 
ye this day, and I’m afther waitin’ an hour and more. ” 

“It’s welcome The Randal is every day in the 
week,” said The Macnamara, leading the way into 
the great dilapidated hall, where in the ancient days 


DAIREEN. 


39 


fifty men-at-arms had been wont to feast royally. 
Now it was black in night. 

In the room where the dinner was laid there 
were but two candles, and their feeble glimmer 
availed no more than to make the blotches on the 
cloth more apparent: the maps of the British Isles 
done in mustard and gravy were numerous. At 
each end a huge black bottle stood like a sentry 
at the border of a snowfield. 

By far the greater portion of the light was supplied 
by the blazing log in the fire-place. It lay not in 
any grate but upon the bare hearth, and crackled and 
roared up the chimney like a demon prostrate in 
torture. The Randal and his host stood before the 
blaze, while Standish seated himself in another part 
of the room. The ruddy flicker of the wood fire 
shone upon the faces of the two men, and the yellow 
glimmer of the candle upon the face of Standish. 
Here and there a polish upon the surface of the 
black oak panelling gleamed, but all the rest of 
the high room was dim. 

Salmon from the lough, venison from the forest, 
wild birds firom the moor made up the dinner. All 
were served on silver dishes strangely worked, and 
plates of the same metal were laid before the diners, 
while horns mounted on massive stands were the 
drinking vessels. From these dishes The Macnamaras 
of the past had eaten, and from these horns they 
had drunken, and though the present head of the 
family could have gained many years’ income had 
he given the metal to be melted, he had never for 
an instant thought of taking such a step. He would 
have starved with that plate empty in front of him 
sooner than have sold it to buy bread. 

Standish spoke no word during the entire meal, 
and the guest saw that something had gone wrong; 
so with his native tact he chatted away, asking 
questions, but waiting for no answer. 


40 


DAIREEN. 


When the table was cleared and the old serving- 
woman had brought in a broken black kettle of 
boiling water, and had laid in the centre of the 
table an immense silver bowl for the brewing of 
the punch, The Randal drew up the remnant of 
his collar and said: 

“Now for the sthory of the droive, Macnamara; 
I’m riddy whin ye fill the bowl.” 

Standish rose from the table and walked away 
to a seat at the furthest end of the great room, 
where he sat hidden in the gloom of the corner. 
The Randal did riot think it inconsistent with his 
chieftainship to wink at his host. 

“Randal,” said The Macnamara, “I’ve made up 
my mind. I’ll disinherit that boy, I will.” 

“No,” cried The Randal eagerly. “Don’t spake 
so loud, man; if this should git wind through the 
counthry who knows what might happen? Disinhirit 
the boy; ye don’t mane it, Macnamara,” he continued 
in an excited but awe-stricken whisper. 

“But by the powers, I do mean it,” cried The 
Macnamara, who had been testing the potent elements 
of the punch. 

“ Disinherit me, will you, father? ” came the sudden 
voice of Standish echoing strangely down the dark 
room. Then he rose and stood facing both men at 
the table, the red glare of the log mixing with the 
sickly candlelight upon his face and quivering hands. 
“ Disinherit me ? ” he said again, bitterly. “ You cannot 
do that. I wish you could. My inheritance, what 
is it? Degradation of family, proud beggary, a life 
to be wasted outside the world of life and work, 
and a death rejoiced over by those wretches who 
have lent you money. Disinherit me from all this, 
if you can.” 

“ Holy Saint Malachi, hare the sonn of The Mac- 
namaras talkin’ loike a choild! ” cried The Randal. 

“ I don’t care who hears me, ” said Standish. “ I’m 


DAIREEN. 


4 ^ 


sick of hearing about my forefathers; no one cares 
about them nowadays. I wanted years ago to go 
out into the world and work.” 

“Work — a Macnamara work!” cried The Randal 
horror-stricken. 

“ I told you so,” said The Macnamara, in the tone 
of one who finds sudden confirmation to the improb- 
able story of some enormity. 

“ I wanted to work as a man should to redeem 
the shame which our life as it is at present brings 
upon our family,” said the young man earnestly — 
almost passionately ; “ but I was not allowed to do 
anything that I wanted. I was kept here in this 
jail wasting my best years; but to-day has brought 
everything to an end. You say you will disinherit 
me, father, but I have from this day disinherited 
myself — I have cast off my old existence. I begin 
life from to-day.” 

Then he turned away and went out of the room, 
leaving his father and his guest in dumb amaze- 
ment &fore their punch. It was some minutes before 
either could speak. At last The Randal took a 
draught of the hot spirit, and shook his head 
thoughtfully. 

“ Poor boy! poor boy! he needs to be looked after, 
till he gets over this turn,” he said. 

“It’s all that girl — that Daireen of the Geralds,” 
said The Macnamara. “ I found a paper with poetry 
on it for her this morning, and -when I forced him 
he confessed that he was in love with her.” 

“D’ye tell me that? And what more did ye do, 
Mac?” 

“ I’ll teli you, ” said the hereditary prince, leaning 
over the table. 

And he gave his guest all the details of the visit 
to the Geralds at length. 

But poor Standish had rushed up the crumbling 
staircase and was lying on his bed with his face 


4 ^ 


DAIREEN. 


in his hands. It was only now he seemed to feel 
all the shame that had caused his face to be red 
and pale by turns in the drawing-room at Suanmara. 
He lay there in a passion of tears, while the great owls 
kept moaning and hooting in the tower just outside 
his window, making sympathetic melody to his ears. 

At last he arose and went over to the window 
and stood gazing out through the break in the ivy 
armour of the wall. He gazed over the tops of the 
trees growing in a straggling way down the slope 
to the water’s edge. He could see far away the 
ocean, whose voice he now and again heard as the 
wind bore it around the tower. Thousands of stars 
glittered above the water and trembled upon its 
moving surface. He felt strong now. He felt that 
he might never weep again in the world as he had 
just wept. Then he turned to another window and 
sent his eyes out to where that great peak of Slieve 
Docas stood out dark and terrible among the stars. 
He could not see the house at the base of the hill, but 
he clenched his hands as he looked out, saying "Hope.” 

It was late before he got into his bed, and it 
was still later when he awoke and heard, mingling 
with the cries of the night-birds, the sound of hoarse 
singing that floated upward from the room where 
he had left his father and The Randal. The prince 
and the chief were joining their voices in a native 
melody, Stan dish knew; and he was well aware 
that he would not be disturbed by the ascent of 
either during the night. The dormitory arrange- 
ments of the prince and the chief when they had 
dined in company were of the simplest nature. 

Standish went to sleep again, and the ancient 
rafters, that had heard the tones of many generations 
of Macnamaras’ voices, trembled for some hours 
with the echoes from the room below, while outside 
the ancient owls hooted and the ancient sea mur- 
mured in its sleep. 


CHAPTER VL 

What imports this song? 

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail 

And you are stay’d for. There; my blessing with thee, 

Hamlet. I do not set my life at a pin’s fee . . . 

It waves me forth again: I’ll follow it. 

Horatio. What if it tempt you toward the flood? . , • 

Look whether he has not turned his colour. — Hamlet. 

The sounds of wild harp-music were ascending at 
even from the depths of Glenmara. The sun had 
sunk, and the hues that had been woven round the 
west were wasting themselves away on the horizon. 
The faint shell-pink had drifted and dwindled far 
from the place of sunset. The woods of the slopes 
looked very dark now that the red glances from 
the west were withdrawn from their glossy foliage; 
but the heather-swathed mountains, towering through 
the soft blue air to the dark blue sky, were richly 
purple, as though the sunset hues had become entangled 
amongst the heather, and had forgotten to fly back 
to the west that had cast them forth. 

The little tarn at the foot of the lowest crags was 
black and still, waiting for the first star-glimpse, 
and from its marge came the wild notes of a harp 
fitfully swelling and waning; and then arose the 
still wilder and more melancholy tones of a man’s 
voice chanting what seemed like a weird dirge to 

43 


44 


DAIREEN. 


the fading twilight, and the language was the Irish 
Celtic — that language every song of which sounds 
like a dirge sung over its own death: — 

Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish woods? 
Why art thou gone who made all the leaves tremulous with the 
low voice of love? 

Love that tarried yet afar, though the fleet swallow had come back 
to us — 

Love that stayed in the far lands though the primrose had cast 
its gold by the streams — 

Love that heard not the voice sent forth from every new-budded 
briar — 

This love came only when thou earnest, and rapture thrilled the 
heart of the green land. 

Why art thou gone from us. White Dove of the Irish woods? 

This is a translation of the wild lament that arose 
in the twilight air and stirred up the echoes of the 
rocks. Then the fitful melody of the harp made 
an interlude: — 

Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish woods? 
Why art thou gone from us whose song brought the Spring to 
our land? 

Yea, flowers to thy singing arose from the earth in boimtiful bloom, 
And scents of the violet, scents of the hawthorn — all scents of the 
spring 

Were wafted about us when thy voice was heard albeit in autumn. 
All thoughts of the spring — all its hopes woke and breathed through 
our hearts. 

Till our souls thrilled with passionate song and the perfume of 
spring which is love. 

Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish woods ? 

Again the chaunter paused and again his harp 
prolonged the wailing melody. Then passing into 
a more sadly soft strain, he continued his song: — 

Why art thou gone from us. Soul of all beauty and joy? 

Now thou art gone the berry drops from the arbutus. 

The wind comes in from the ocean with wail and the autumn 
is sad. 

The yellow leaves perish, whirled wild whither no one can know. 


DAIREEN. 


45 


As the crisp leaves are crushed in the woods, so our hearts are 
crushed at thy parting; 

As the woods moan for the summer departed, so we mourn that 
we see thee no more. 

Why art thou gone from us. Soul of all beauty and joy ? 

Into the twilight the last notes died away, and a 
lonely heron standing among the rushes at the 
edge of the tarn moved his head critically to one 
side as if waiting for another song with which to 
sympathize. But he was not the only listener. 
Far up among the purple crags Standish Macna- 
mara was lying looking out to the sunset when he 
heard the sound of the chant in the glen beneath 
him. He lay silent while the dirge floated up the 
mountain-side and died away among the heather 
of the peak. But when the silence of the twilight 
came once more upon the glen, Standish arose and 
made his way downwards to where an old man 
with one of the small ancient Irish harps, was seated 
on a stone, his head bent across the strings upon 
which his fingers still rested. Standish knew him 
to be one Murrough O’Brian, a descendant of the 
bards of the country, and an old retainer of the 
Gerald family. A man learned in Irish, but not 
speaking an intelligible sentence in English. 

" Why do you sing the Dirge of Tuathal on this 
evening, Murrough?” he asked in his native tongue, 
as he came beside the old man. 

" What else is there left for me to sing at this 
time, Standish O’Dermot Macnamara, son of the 
Prince of Islands and all Munster?” said the bard. 
“There is. nothing of joy left us now. We cannot 
sing except in sorrow. Does not the land seem to 
have sympathy with such songs, prolonging their 
sound by its own voice from every glen and 
mountain-face ? ” 

“It is true,” said Standish. “As I sat up among 
the cliifs of heather it seemed to me that the melody 


46 


DAIREEN. 


was made by the spirits of the glen bewailing in 
the twilight the departure of the glory of our land. ” 

"See how desolate is all around us here,” said 
the bard. “Glenmara is lonely now, where it was 
wont to be gay with song and laughter; when the 
nobles thronged the valley with hawk and hound, 
the voice of the bugle and the melody of a hundred 
harps were heard stirring up the echoes in delight. ” 

"But now all are gone; they can only be recalled 
in vain dreams,” said the second in this duet of 
Celtic mourners — the younger Marius among the 
ruins. 

"The sons of Erin have left her in her lone- 
liness while the world is stirred with their brave 
actions,” continued the ancient bard. 

" True,” cried Standish; " outside is the world that 
needs Irish hands and hearts to make it better 
worth living in.” The young man was so enthusiastic 
in the utterance of his part in the dialogue as to 
cause the bard to look suddenly up. 

" Yes, the hands and the hearts of the Irish have 
done much,” he said. "Let the men go out into the 
world for a while, but let our daughters be spared 
to us.” 

Standish gave a little start and looked enquiringly 
into the face of the bard. 

" What do you mean, Murrough? ” he asked slowly. 

The bard leant forward as if straining to catch 
some distant sound. 

" Listen to it, listen to it, ” he said. There was a 
pause, and through the silence the moan of the 
far-off ocean was borne along the dim glen. 

"It is the sound of the Atlantic,” said Standish. 
" The breeze from the west carries it to us up from 
the lough.” 

"Listen to it and think that she is out on that 
far ocean,” said the old man. "Listen to it, and 
think that Daireen, daughter of the Geralds, has 


DAIREEN. 


47 


left her Irish home and is now tossing upon that 
ocean; gone is she, the bright bird of the South — 
gone from those her smile lightened!” 

Standish neither started nor uttered a word when 
the old man had spoken; but he felt his feet give 
way under him. He sat down upon a crag and 
laid his head upon his hand staring into the black 
tarn. He could not comprehend at first the force 
of the words “ She is gone.” He had thought of his 
own departure, but the possibility of Daireen^s had 
not occurred to him. The meaning of the bard’s 
lament was now apparent to him, and even now 
the melody seemed to be given back by the rocks 
that had heard it: 

Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? 

The words moaned through the dim air with the 
sound of the distant waters for accompaniment. 

“Gone — gone — Daireen,” he whispered. “And you 
only tell me of it now,” he added almost fiercely 
to the old man, for he reflected upon the time he 
had wasted in that duet of lamentation over the 
ruins of his country. What a wretchedly trivial 
thing he felt was the condition of the country compared 
with such an event as the departure of Daireen 
Gerald. 

“It is only since morning that she is gone,” said 
the bard. “ It was only in the morning that the 
letter arrived to tell her that her father was l5dng 
in a fever at some place where the vessel called 
on the way home. And now she is gone from us, 
perhaps for ever.” 

“ Murrough,” said the young man, laying his hand 
upon the other’s arm, and speaking in a hoarse 
whisper. “Tell me all about her. Why did they 
allow her to go? Where is she gone? Not out 
to where her father was landed?” 

“ Why not there ? ” cried the old man, raising his 


48 


DAIREEN. 


head proudly. * Did a Gerald ever shrink from duty 
when the hour came? Brave girl she is, worthy 
to be a Gerald!” 

“Tell me all — all.” 

“What more is there to tell than what is bound 
up in those three words ‘She is gone^P” said the 
man. “ The letter came to her grandfather and she 
saw him read it — I was in the hall — she saw his 
hand tremble. She stood up there beside him and 
asked him what was in the letter; he looked into 
her face and put the letter in her hand. I saw her 
face grow pale as she read it. Then she sat down 
for a minute, but no word or cry came from her 
until she looked up to the old man’s face ; then she 
clasped her hands and said only, T will go to 
him. ’ The old people talked to her of the distance, 
of the danger; they told her how she would be 
alone for days and nights among strangers; but 
she only repeated, ‘I will go to him.’ And now 
she is gone — gone alone over those waters.” 

“ Alone ! ” Standish repeated. “ Gone away alone, 
no friend near her, none to utter a word of com- 
fort in her ears! ” He buried his face in his hands 
as he pictured the girl whom he had loved silently, 
but with all his soul, since she had come to her 
home in Ireland from India where she had lived 
with her father since the death of his wife ten years 
ago. He pictured her sitting in her loneliness aboard 
the ship that was bearing her away to, perhaps, 
the land of her father’s grave, and he felt that now 
at last all the bitterness that could be crowded upon 
his life had fallen on him. He gazed into the black 
tarn, and saw within its depths a star glittering as 
it glittered in the sky above, but it did not relieve 
his thoughts with any touch of its gold. 

He rose after a while and gave his hand to Mur- 
rough. 

“Thank you,” he said. “You have told me all 


DAIREEN. 


49 


better than anyone else could have done. But did 
she not speak of me, Murrough — only once perhaps ? 
Did she not send me one little word of farewell ? ” 

“ She gave me this ibr you, ” said the old bard, 
producing a letter which Standish clutched almost 
wildly. 

“ Thank God, thank God! ” he cried, hurrying away 
without another word. But after him swept the 
sound of the bard’s lament which he commenced 
anew, with that query: 

Why art thou gone from us. Soul of all beauty and joy? 

It was not yet too dark outside the glen for 
Standish to read the letter which he had just received; 
and so soon as he found himself in sight of the sea 
he tore open the cover and read the fevr lines Daireen 
Gerald had written, with a tremulous hand, to say 
farewell to him. 

“My father has been left ill with fever at the 
Cape, and I know that he will recover only if I 
go to him. I am going away to-day, for the steamer 
will leave Southampton in four days, and I cannot 
be there in time unless I start at once. I thought 
you would not like me to go without saying good- 
bye, and God bless you, dear Standish. 

“Daireen Gerald. 

“You will say good-bye to The Macnamara for 
me. I thought poor papa would be here to give 
you the advice you want. Pray to God that I may 
be in time to see him.” 

He read the lines by the gray light reflected from 
the sea — he read them until his eyes were dim. 

“ Brave, glorious girl I ” he cried. “ But to think ot 

her — alone — alone out there, while I oh, what 

a poor weak fool I am! Here am I — here, looking 

4 


50 


DAIREEN. 


out to the sea she is gone to battle with! Oh, God! 
oh, God! I must do something for her — I must — 
but what — what?” 

He cast himself down upon the heather that 
crawled from the slopes even to the road, and there 
he lay with his head buried in agony at the thought 
of his own impotence; while through the dark glen 
floated the wild, weird strain of the lament. 

Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? 


CHAPTER Vn. 


Hamlet. How chances it they travel? their residence, both in 
reputation and profit, was better both ways. 

Rosencrantz. I think their inhibition comes by the means 
oi the late innovation. 

Many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills. 

What imports the nomination of this gentleman? 

Hamlet. 

Away from the glens and the heather-clad moun- 
tains, from the blue loughs and their islands 
of arbutus, from the harp-music, and from the 
ocean-music which makes those who hear it ripe 
for revolt; away from the land whose life is the 
memory of ancient deeds of nobleness; away from 
the land that has given birth to more heroes than 
any nation in the world, the land whose inhabitants 
live in thousands in squalor and look out from mud 
windows upon the most glorious scenery in the 
world; away from all these one must now be 
borne. 

Upon the evening of the fourth day after the 
chanting of that lament by the bard O’Brian from 
the depths of Glenmara, the good steam-ship Card- 
well Castle was making its way down Channel 
with a full cargo and heavy mails for Madeira, St. 
'Helena, and the Cape. It had left its port but a 
few hours and already the coast had become dim 
with distance. The red shoreway of the south-west 


52 


DAIREEN. 


was now so far away that the level rays of sunlight 
which swept across the water were not seen to 
shine upon the faces of the rocks, or to show where 
the green fields joined the brown moorland; the 
windmills crowning every height were not seen to 
be in motion. 

The passengers were for the most part very 
cheerful, as passengers generally are during the 
first couple of hours of a voyage, when only the 
gentle ripples of the Channel lap the sides of the 
vessel. The old voyagers, who had thought it 
prudent to dine off a piece of sea-biscuit and a glass 
of brandy and water, while they watched with grim 
smiles the novices trifling with roast pork and 
apricot-dumplings, were now sitting in seats they 
had arranged for themselves in such places as they 
knew would be well to leeward for the greater 
part of the voyage, and here they smoked their 
cigars and read their newspapers just as they would 
be doing every day for three weeks. To them the 
phenomenon of the lessening land was not parti- 
cularly interesting. The novices were endeavouring 
to look as if they had been used to knock about 
the sea all their lives; they carried their telescopes 
under their arms quite jauntily, and gave critical 
glances aloft every now and again, consulting their 
pocket compasses gravely at regular intervals to 
convince themselves that they were not being trifled 
with in the navigation of the vessel. 

Then there were, of course, those who had come 
aboard with the determination of learning in three 
weeks as much seamanship as should enable them 
to accept any post of marine responsibility that they 
might be called upon to fill in after life. They 
handled the loose tackle with a view of determining 
its exact utility, and endeavoured to trace stray lines 
to their source. They placed the captain entirely 
at his ease with them by asking him a number ot 


DAIREEN. 


53 


questions regarding the dangers of boiler-bursting, 
and the perils of storms ; they begged that he would 
let them know if there was any truth in the report 
which had reached them to the effect that the 
Atlantic was a very stormy place; and they left 
him with the entreaty that in case of any danger 
arising suddenly he would at once communicate 
with them; they then went down to put a few casual 
questions to the quartermaster who was at the wheel, 
and doubtless felt that they were making most of 
the people about them cheerful with their converse. 

Then there were the young ladies who had just 
completed their education in England and were now 
on their way to join their relations abroad. Having 
read in the course of their studies of English litera- 
ture the poems of the late Samuel Rogers, they 
were much amazed to find that the mariners were 
not leaning over the ship’s bulwarks sighing to 
behold the sinking of their native land, and that not 
an individual had climbed the mast to partake of 
the ocular banquet with indulging in which the poet 
has accredited the sailor. Towards this section the 
glances of several male eyes were turned, for most 
of the young men had roved sufficiently far to 
become aware of the fact that the relief of the 
monotony of a lengthened voyage is principally 
dependent on — well, on the relieving capacities of 
the young ladies, lately sundered from school and 
just commencing their education in the world. 

But far away from the groups that hung about 
the stem stood a girl looking over the side of the 
ship towards the west — towards the sun that was 
almost touching the horizon. She heard the laughter 
of the groups of girls and the silly questions of the 
uninformed, but all sounded to her like the strange 
voices of a dream; for as she gazed towards the 
west she seemed to see a fair landscape of purple 
slopes and green woods; the dash of the ripples 


54 


DAIREEN. 


against the ship’s side came to her as the rustle ot 
the breaking ripples amongst the shells of a blue 
lough upon whose surface a number of green islets 
raised their heads. She saw them all — every islet, 
with its moveless shadow beneath it, and the light 
touching the edges of the leaves with red. Daireen 
Gerald it was who stood there looking out to the 
sunset, but seeing in the golden lands of the west 
the Irish land she knew so well. 

She remained motionless, with her eyes far away 
and her heart still farther, until the red sun had 
disappeared, and the delicate twilight change was 
slipping over the bright gray water. With every 
change she seemed to see the shifting of the hues 
over the heather of Slieve Docas and the pulsating 
of the tremulous red light through the foliage of 
the deer ground. It was only now that the tears 
forced themselves into her eyes, for she had not 
wept at parting from her grandfather, who had gone 
with her from Ireland and had left her aboard the 
steamer a few hours before; and while her tears 
made everything misty to her, the light laughter of 
the groups scattered about the quarter-deck sounded 
in her ears. It did not come harshly to her, for it 
seemed to come from a world in which she had no 
part. The things about her were as the things of 
a dream. The reality in which she was living was 
that which she saw out in the west. 

“Come, my dear,” said a voice behind her — 
“ Come and walk with me on the deck. I fancied 
I had lost you, and you may guess what a state 
I was in, after all the promises I made to Mr. 
Gerald.” 

“ I was just looking out there, and wondering 
what they were all doing at home — at the foot of 
the dear old mountain, ” said Daireen, allowing herself 
to be led away. 

“That is what most people would call moping, 


DAIREEN. 


55 


dear,* said the lady who had come up. She was 
a middle-aged lady with a pleasant face, though 
her figure was hardly what a scrupulous painter 
would choose as a model for a Nausicaa. 

“Perhaps I was moping, Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen 
replied; “but I feel the better for it now.” 

“ My dear, I don’t disapprove of moping now and 
again, though as a habit it should not be encouraged. 

I was down in my cabin, and when I came on deck 
I couldn’t understand where you had disappeared 
to; I asked the major, but of course, you know, 
he was quite oblivious to everything but the mutiny 
at Cawnpore, through being beside Doctor Campion. ” 

“But you have found me, you see, Mrs. Crawford.” 

“ Yes, thanks to Mr. Glaston ; he knew where you 
had gone; he had been watching you.” Daireen 
felt her face turning red as she thought of this 
Mr. Glaston, whoever he was, with his eyes fixed 
upon her movements. “You don’t know Mr. Glaston, 
Daireen? — I shall call you ‘Daireen’ of course, though 
we have only known each other a couple of hours,” 
continued the lady. “No, of course you don’t. 
Never mind. I’ll show him to you.” For the promise 
of this treat Daireen did not express her gratitude. 
She had come to think the most unfavourable things 
regarding this Mr. Glaston. Mrs. Crawford, however, 
did not seem to expect an acknowledgment. Her 
chat ran on as briskly as ever. “ I shall point him 
out to you, but on no account look near him for 
some time — young men are so conceited, you know.” 

Daireen had heard this peculiarity ascribed to the 
race before, and so when her guide, as they walked 
towards the stem of the vessel, indicated to her 
that a young man sitting in a deck-chair smoking 
a cigar was Mr. Glaston, she certainly did not do 
anything that might possibly increase in Mr. Glaston 
this dangerous tendency which Mrs. Crawford had 
assigned to young men generally. 


56 


DAIREEN. 


‘‘What do you think of him, my dear?" asked 
Mrs. Crawford, when they had strolled up the deck 
once more. 

“Of whom?" enquired Daireen. 

“ Good gracious," cried the lady, “ are!your thoughts 
still straying? Why, I mean Mr. Glaston, to be 
sure. What do you think of him?" 

“I didn’t look at him," the girl answered. 

Mrs. Crawford searched the fair face beside her 
to find out if its expression agreed with her words, 
and the scrutiny being satisfactory she gave a little 
laugh. “ How do you ever mean to know what he 
is like if you don’t look at him?" she asked. 

Daireen did not stop to explain how she thought 
it possible that contentment might exist aboard the 
steamer even though she remained in ignorance for 
ever of Mr. Glaston’s qualities; but presently she 
glanced along the deck, and saw sitting at graceful 
ease upon the chair Mrs. Crawford had indicated, 
a tall man of apparently a year or two under thirty. 
He had black hair which he had allowed to grow 
long behind, and a black moustache which gave 
every indication of having been subjected to the 
most careful youthful training. His face would not 
have been thought expressive but for his eyes, and 
the expression that these organs gave out could 
hardly be called anything except a neutral one: 
they indicated nothing except that nothing was meant 
to be indicated by them. No suggestion of passion, 
feeling, or even thoughtfulness, did they give; and 
in fact the only possible result of looking at this 
face which some people called expressive, was a 
feeling that the man himself was calmly conscious 
of the fact that some people were in the habit of 
calling his face expressive. 

“And what do you think of him now, my dear?" 
asked Mrs. Crawford, after Daireen had gratified her 
by taking that look. 


DAIREEN. 


57 


“I really don’t think that I think anything,* she 
answered with a little laugh. 

“That is the beauty of his face,” cried Mrs. Craw- 
ford. “It sets one thinking.” 

“But that is not what I said, Mrs. Crawford.” 

“You said you did not think you were thinking 
anything, Daireen; and that meant, I know, that 
there was more in his face than you could read at 
a first glance. Never mind; everyone is set think- 
ing when one sees Mr. Glaston.” 

Daireen had almost become interested in this Mr. 
Glaston, even though she could not forget that he 
had watched her when she did not want to be 
watched. She gave another glance towards him, 
but with no more profitable conclusion than her 
previous look had attained. 

“I will tell you all about him, my child,” said 
Mrs. Crawford confidentially; “but first let us make 
ourselves comfortable. Dear old England, there is 
the last of it for us for some time. Adieu, adieu, 
dear old country! ” There was not much sentiment- 
ality in the stout little lady’s tone, as she looked 
towards the faint line of mist far astern that marked 
the English coast. She sat down with Daireen to 
the leeward of the deck-house where she had laid 
her rugs, and until the tea-bell rang Daireen had 
certainly no opportunity for moping. 

Mrs. Crawford told her that this Mr. Glaston 
was a young man of such immense capacities that 
nothing lay ojitside his grasp either in art or science. 
He had not thought it necessary to devote his atten- 
tion to any subject in particular; but that, Mrs. 
Crawford thought, was rather because there existed 
no single subject that he considered worthy of an 
expenditure of all his energies. As things unfortu- 
nately existed, there was nothing left for him but 
to get rid of the unbounded resources of his mind 
by applying them to a variety of subjects. He had, 


58 


DAIREEN. 


in fact, written poetry^ — never an entire volume ot 
course, but exceedingly clever pieces that had been 
published in his college magazine. He was capable 
of painting a great picture if he chose, though he 
had contented himself with giving ideas to other 
men who had worked them out through the medium 
of pictures. He was one of the most accomplished 
of musicians; and if he had not yet produced an 
opera or composed even a song, instances were on 
record of his having performed impromptus that 
would undoubtedly have made the fame of a pro- 
fessor. He was the son of a Colonial Bishop, Mrs. 
Crawford told Daireen, and though he lived in 
England he was still dutiful enough to go out to 
pay a month’s visit to his father every year. 

“ But we must not make him conceited, Daireen, ” 
said Mrs. Crawford, ending her discourse; “ we must 
not, dear; and if he should look over and see us 
together this way, he would conclude that we were 
talking of him.” 

Daireen rose with her instructive companion with 
an uneasy sense of feeling that all they could by 
their combined efforts contribute to the conceit ot 
a young man who would, upon grounds so slight, 
come to such a conclusion as Mrs. Crawford feared 
he might, would be but trifling. 

Then the tea-bell rang, and all the novices who 
had enjoyed the roast pork and dumplings at din- 
ner, descended to make a hearty meal of buttered 
toast and banana jelly. The sea air had given them 
an appetite, they declared with much merriment. 
The chief steward, however, being an experienced 
man, and knowing that in a few hours the Bay of 
Biscay would be entered, did not, from observing 
the hearty manner in which the novices were eating, 
feel uneasy on the matter of the endurance of the 
ship’s stores. He knew it would be their last meal 
for some days at least, and he smiled grimly as 


DAIREEN. 


59 


he laid down another plate of buttered toast, and 
hastened off to send up some more brandy and 
biscuits to Major Crawford and Doctor Campion, 
whose hoarse chuckles called forth by pleasing re- 
miniscences of Cawnpore were dimly heard from 
the deck through the cabin skylight. 


CHAPTER Vin. 


An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; 

Till then in patience our proceeding be. 

We’ll put on those shall praise your excellence 
And set a double varnish on the fame 
The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together. 
... I know love is begim by time. 

I know him well: he is the brooch indeed 
And gem of all the nation. 

He made confession of you, 

And gave you such a masterly report 
For art . . , ’twould be a sight indeed 
If one could match you. — Hamlet, 

Mrs. Crawford absolutely clung to Daireen all 
this evening. When the whist parties were formed 
in the cabin she brought the girl on deck and in- 
structed her in some of the matters worth knowing 
aboard a passenger ship. 

“On no account bind yourself to any whist set 
before you look about you: nothing could be more 
dangerous, ” she said confidentially. “ Just think how 
terrible it would be if you were to join a set now, 
and afterwards to find out that it was not the best 
set. You would simply be ruined. Besides that, 
it is better to stay on deck as much as possible 
during the first day or two at sea. Now let us go 
over to the major and Campion.” 

So Daireen found herself borne onward with Mrs. 


6o 


DAIREEN. 


6l 


Crawford’s arm in her own to where Major Craw- 
ford and. Doctor Campion were sitting on their bat- 
tered deck-chairs lighting fresh cheroots from the 
ashes of the expiring ends. 

“ Don’t tread on the tumblers, my dear,” said the 
major as his wife advanced. “And how is Miss 
Gerald now that w« have got under weigh? You 
didn’t take any of that liquid they insult the Chi- 
nese Empire by calling tea, aboard ship, I hope?” 

“Just a single cup, and very weak,” said Mrs. 
Crawford apologetically. 

“ My dear, I thought you were wiser.” 

“You will take this chair, Mrs. Crawford?” said 
Doctor Campion, without making the least pretence 
of moving, however. 

“Don’t think of such a thing,” cried the lady’s 
husband ; and to do Doctor Campion justice, he did 
not think of such a thing. “ Why, you don’t fancy 
these are our Junkapore days, do you, when Kate 
came out to our bungalow and the boys called her 
the Sylph? It’s a fact. Miss Gerald; my wife, as 
your father will tell you, was as slim as a lily. 
Ah, dear, dear! Time, they say, takes a lot away 
from us, but by Jingo, he’s liberal enough in some 
ways. By Jingo, yes,” and the gallant old man 
kept shaking his head and chuckling towards his 
comrade, whose features could be seen puckered 
into a grin though he uttered no sound. 

“And stranger still, Miss Gerald,” said the lady, 
“the major was once looked upon as a polite man, 
and politer to his wife than to anybody else. Go 
and fetch some chairs here, Campion, like a good 
fellow,” she added to the doctor, who rose slowly 
and obeyed. 

“ That’s how my wife takes command of the entire 
battalion. Miss Gerald,” remarked the major. “Oh, 
your father will tell you all about her.” 

The constant reference to her father by one who 


62 


DAIREEN. 


was an old friend^ came with a cheering influence 
to the girl. A terrible question as to what might 
be the result of her arrival at the Cape had sug- 
gested itself to her more* than once since she had 
left Ireland; but now the major did not seem to 
fancy that there could be any question in the matter. 

When the chairs were brought, and enveloped in 
karosses, as the old campaigners called the furs, 
there arose a chatter of bungalows, and punkahs, 
and puggarees, and calapashes, and curries, that 
was quite delightful to the girl’s ears, especially as 
from time to time her father’s name would be men- 
tioned in connection with some elephant-trapping 
expedition, or, perhaps, a mess joke. 

When at last Daireen found herself alone in the 
cabin which her grandfather had managed to secure 
for her, she did not feel that loneliness which she 
thought she should have felt aboard this ship full of 
strangers without sympathy for her. 

She stood for a short time in the darkness, looking 
out of her cabin port over the long waters, and 
listening to the sound of the waves hijrrying away 
from the ship and flapping against its sides, and 
once more she thought of the purple mountain and 
the green Irish lough. Then as she moved away 
from the port her thoughts stretched in another 
direction — southward. Her heart was full of hope 
as she turned in to her bunk and went quietly 
asleep just as the first waves of the Bay of Biscay 
were making the good steamer a little uneasy, and 
bringing about a bitter remorse to those who had 
made merry over the dumplings and buttered toast 

Major Crawford was an officer who had served 
for a good many years in India, and had there 
become acquainted with Daireen’s father and mo- 
ther. When Mr. Gerald was holding his grandchild 
in his arms aboard the steamer saying good-bye, 
he was surprised by a strange lady coming up to 


DAIREEN. 


63 


him and begging to be informed if it was possible 
that Daireen was the daughter of Colonel Gerald. 
In another instant Mr. Gerald was overjoyed to know 
that Daireen would be during the entire of the voyage 
in the company of an officer and his wife who were 
old friends of her father, and had recognized her from 
her likeness to her mother, whom they had also known 
when she was little older than Daireen. Mr. Gerald 
left the vessel with a mind at rest; and that his 
belief that the girl would be looked after was well- 
founded is already known. Daireen was, indeed, 
in the hands of a lady who was noted in many 
parts of the world for her capacities for taking charge 
of young ladies. When she was in India her posi- 
tion at the station was very similar to that of 
immigration-agent-general. Fond matrons in Eng- 
land, who had brought their daughters year after 
year to Homburg, Kissingen, and Nice, in the ‘ open ’ 
season, and had yet brought them back in safety — 
matrons who had even sunk to the low level of 
hydropathic hunting-grounds without success, were 
accustomed to write pathetic letters to Junkapore 
and Arradambad conveying to Mrs. Crawford in- 
telligence of the strange fancy that some of the 
dear girls had conceived to visit those parts of the 
Indian Empire, and begging Mrs. Crawford to give 
her valuable advice with regard to the carrying out 
of such remarkable freaks. Never in any of these 
cases had the major’s wife failed. These forlorn 
hopes took passage to India and found in her a 
real friend, with tact, perseverance, and experience. 
The subalterns of the station were never allowed to 
mope in a wretched, companionless condition; and 
thus Mrs. Crawford had achieved for herself a cer- 
tain fame, which it was her study to maintain. 
Having herself had men-children only, she had no 
personal interests to look after. Her boys had 
been swaddled in puggarees, spoon-fed with curry, 


64 


DAIREEN. 


and nurtured upon chutney, and had so developed 
into full-grown Indians ready for the choicest 
appointments, and they had succeeded very well 
indeed. Her husband had now received a com- 
mand from the War Office to proceed to the Cape 
for the purpose of obtaining evidence on the sub- 
ject of the regulation boots to be supplied to troops 
on active foreign service; a commission upon this 
most important subject having been ordered by a 
Parliamentary vote. Other officers of experience 
had been sent to various of the colonies, and much 
was expected to result from the prosecution of their 
enquiries, the opponents of the Government being 
confident that gussets would eventually be allowed 
to non-commissioned officers, and back straps to 
privates. 

Of course Major Crawford could not set out on 
a mission so important without the companionship 
of his wife. Though just at the instant of Daireen’s 
turning in, the major fancied he might have managed 
to get along pretty well even if his partner had 
been left behind him in England. He was inclined 
to snarl in his cabin at nights when his wife 
unfolded her plans to him and kept him awake to 
give his opinion as to the possibility of the tastes 
of various young persons becoming assimilated. 
To-night the major expressed his indifference as to 
whether every single man in the ship’s company 
got married to every single woman before the end 
of the voyage, or whether they all went to perdi- 
tion singly. He concluded by wishing fervently 
that they would disappear, married and single, by 
a supernatural agency. 

“But think, how gratified poor Gerald would be 
if the dear girl could think as I do on this subject,” 
said Mrs. Crawford persistently, alluding to the matter 
of certain amalgamation of tastes. At this point, how- 
ever, the major expressed himselt in words still more 


DAIREEN. 


65 


vigorous than he had brought to his aid before, 
and his wife thought it prudent to get into her 
bunk without pursuing any farther the question of 
the possible gratification of Colonel Gerald at the 
unanimity of thought existing between his daughter 
and Mrs. Crawford, 


5 


CHAPTER rx. 


How dangerous is it that this man goes loose . • • 

He’s loved of the distracted multitude, 

Who like not in their judgment but their eyes: 

And where ’tis so the offender’s scourge is weigh’d, 

But never the offence. 

Look here upon this picture, and on this. 

Thus has he — and many more of the same breed that I know 
the drossy age dotes on — only got the tune of the time ... a kind 
of yesty collection which carries them through and through the 
most fond and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their 
trial, the bubbles are out. — Hamlet. 


The uneasy bosom of the Bay of Biscay was 
throbbing" with its customary emotion beneath the 
good vessel, when Daireen awoke the next morning 
to the sound of creaking timbers and rioting glasses. 
Above her on the deck the tramp of a healthy 
passenger who wore a pedometer and walked three 
miles every morning before breakfast, was heard, 
now dilating and now decreasing, as he passed 
over the cabins. He had almost completed his 
second mile, and was putting on a spurt in order 
to keep himself up to time; his spurt at the end 
of the first mile had effectually awakened all the 
passengers beneath, who had yet remained undis- 
turbed through the earlier part of his tramp. 

Mrs. Crawford, looking bright and fresh and 
good-natured, entered Daireen's cabin before the 
girl was ready to leave it. She certainly seemed 


DAIREEN. 


67 


determined that the confidence Mr. Gerald had 
reposed in her with regard to the care of his grand- 
daughter should not prove to have been misplaced. 

‘*1 am not going in, my dear,” she said as she 
entered the cabin. “I only stepped round to see 
that you were all right this morning. I knew you 
would be so, though Robinson the steward tells 
me that even the little sea there is on in the bay 
has been quite sufficient to make about a dozen 
vacancies at the breakfast-table. People are such 
fools when they come aboard a ship — eating boiled 
paste and all sorts of things, and so the sea is 
grossly misrepresented. Did that dreadfully healthy 
Sir. Thompson awake you with his tramping on 
deck? Of course he did; he’s a dreadful man. If 
he goes on like this we’ll have to petition the cap- 
tain to lay down bark on the deck. Now I’ll leave 
you. Come aloft when you are ready; and, by the 
way, you must take care what dress you put on — 
very great care.” 

“ Why, I thought that aboard ship one might wear 
anything,” said the girl. 

“Never was there a greater mistake, my child. 
People say the same about going to the seaside: 
anything will do; but you know how one requires 
to be doubly particular there; and it’s just the same 
in our little world aboard ship.” 

“You quite frighten me, Mrs. Crawford,” said 
Daireen. “What advice can you give me on the 
subject? ” 

Mrs. Crawford was thoughtful. “ If you had only 
had time to prepare for the voyage, and I had 
been beside you, everything might have been differ- 
ent. You must not wear anything pronounced — any 
distinct colour: you must find out something unde- 
cided — you understand ? ” 

Daireen looked puzzled. “I’m sorry to say I 
don’t.” 


68 


DAIREEN. 


“Oh, you have surely something of pale sage — 
no, that is a bad tone for the first days aboard — 
too like the complexions of most of the passengers 
— but, chocolate-gray? ah, that should do: have you 
anything in that to do for a morning dress?” 

Daireen was so extremely fortunate as to be 
possessed of a garment of the required tone, and 
her kind friend left her arraying herself in its folds. 

On going aloft Daireen found the deck occupied 
by a select few of the passengers. The healthy 
gentleman was just increasing his pace for the final 
hundred yards of his morning’s walk, and Doctor 
Campion had got very near the end of his second 
cheroot, while he sat talking to a fair-haired and 
bronze-visaged man with clear gray eyes that had 
such a way of looking at things as caused people 
to fancy he was making a mental calculation of the 
cubic measure of everything; and it was probably 
the recollection of their peculiarity that made people 
fancy, when these eyes looked into a human face, 
that the mind of the man was going through a 
similar calculation with reference to the human ob- 
ject: one could not avoid feeling that he had a 
number of formulae for calculating the intellectual 
lvalue of people, and that when he looked at a 
: person he was thinking which formula should be 
employed for arriving at a conclusion regarding 
that person’s mental capacity. 

Mrs. Crawford was chatting with the doctor and 
his companion, but on Daireen’s appearing, she 
went over to her. 

“Perfect, my child,” she said in a whisper — “the 
tone of the dress, I mean; it will work wonders.” 

While Daireen was reflecting upon the possi- 
bility of a suspension of the laws of nature being 
the result of the appearance of the chocolate-toned 
dress, she was led towards the doctor, who imme- 
diately went through a fiction of rising from his 


DAIREEN. 


69 


seat as she approached; and one would really have 
fancied that he intended getting upon his feet, and 
was only restrained at the last moment by a remon- 
strance of the girl’s. Daireen acknowledged his 
courtesy, though it was only imaginary, and she 
was conscious that his companion had really risen. 

“You haven’t made the acquaintance of Miss 
Gerald, Mr. Harwood?” said Mrs. Crawford. 

“ I have not had the honour,” said the man. 

“Let me present you, Daireen. Mr. Harwood — 
Miss Gerald. Now take great care what you say 
to this gentleman, Daireen ; he is a dangerous man — 
the most dangerous that anyone could meet. He 
is a detective, dear, and the worst of all — a literary 
detective; the ‘special’ of the ‘Dominant Trum- 
peter’.” 

Daireen had looked into the man’s face while she 
was being presented to him, and she knew it was 
the face of a man who had seen the people of more 
than one nation. 

“ This is not your first voyage. Miss Gerald, or 
you would not be on deck so early?” he said. 

“ It certainly is not, ” she replied. “ I was bom in 
India, so that my first voyage was to England ; 
then I have crossed the Irish Channel firequently, 
going to school and returning for the holidays ; and 
I have also had some long voyages on Lough 
Suangorm,” she added with a little smile, for she 
did not think that her companion would be likely 
to have heard of the existence of the Irish fjord. 

“ Suangorm ? then you have had some of the most 
picturesque voyages one can make in the course 
of a day in this world,” he said. “ Lough Suangorm 
is the most wonderful ^ord in the world, let me 
tell you.” 

“ Then you know it,” she cried with a good deal 
of surprise. “You must know the dear old lough 
or you would not talk so.” She did not seem to 


70 


DAIREEN. 


think that his assertion should imply that he had 
seen a good many other Qords also. 

“ I think I may say I know it. Yes, from those 
fine headlands that the Atlantic beats against, to 
where the purple slope of that great hill meets the 
little road.” 

“You know the hill — old Slieve Docas? How 
strange! I live just at the foot.” 

“I have a sketch of a mansion, taken just there,” 
he said laughing. “ It is of a dark brown exterior. ” 

“ Exactly. ” 

“It looks towards the sea.” 

“It does indeed.” 

“ It is exceedingly picturesque.* 

“ Picturesque ? ” 

“ Well, yes; the house I allude to is very much 
so. If I recollect aright, the one window of the 
wall was not glazed, and the smoke certainly found 
its way out through a hole in the roof.” 

“Oh, that is too bad,” said Daireen. “I had no 
idea that the peculiarities of my country people 
would be known so far away. Please don’t say 
anything about that sketch to the passengers aboard.” 

“ I shall never be tempted to allude, even by the 
‘pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,’ to the — 
the — peculiarities of your country people. Miss 
Gerald,” he answered. “It is a lovely country, and 
contains the most hospitable people in the world; 
but their talent does not develop itself architecturally. 
Ah! there is the second bell. I hope you have an 
appetite.” 

“ Have you been guarded enough in your con- 
versation, Daireen? ” said Mrs. Crawford, coming up 
with the doctor, whose rising at the summons of 
the breakfast-bell was by no means a fiction. 

“The secrets of the Home Rule Confederation 
are safe in the keeping of Miss Gerald,” said Mr. 
Harwood, with a smile which anyone could see was 


DArREEN. 7 1 

simply the result of his satisfaction at having produced 
a well-turned sentence. 

The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, 
more so even than Robinson the steward had antici- 
pated when on the previous evening he had laid 
down that second plate of buttered toast before the 
novices. 

Of the young ladies only three appeared at the 
table, and their complexions were of the softest 
amber shade that was ever worked in satin in the 
upholstery of mock-mediaeval furniture. Major 
Crawford had just come out of the steward's pantry, 
and he greeted Daireen with all courtesy, as indeed 
he did the other young ladies at the table, for the 
major was gallant and gay aboard ship. 

After everyone had been seated for about ten 
minutes, the curtain that screened off one of the 
cabin entrances from the saloon was moved aside, 
and the figure of the young man to whom Mrs. 
Crawford had alluded as Mr. Glaston appeared. 
He came slowly forward, nodding to the captain 
and saying good-morning to Mrs. Crawford, while 
he elevated his eyebrows in recognition of Mr. Har- 
wood, taking his seat at the table. 

“You can’t have an appetite coming directly out 
of your bunk,” said the doctor. 

“ Indeed? ” said Mr. Glaston, without the least ex- 
pression. 

“ Quite impossible,” said the doctor. “ You should 
have been up an hour ago at least. Here is Mr. 
Thompson, who has walked more than three miles 
in the open air.” 

“Ah,” said the other, never moving his eyes to 
see the modest smile that spread itself over the 
features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. “Ah, I 
heard some one who seemed to be going in for 
that irrepressible thousand miles in a thousand 
hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a grape.” The 


DAIREEN. 


n 

last sentence he addressed to the waiter, who, 
having been drilled by the steward on the subject of 
Mr. Glaston’s tastes, did not show any astonish- 
ment at being asked for fruit instead of fish, but 
hastened off to procure the grape and the pear. 

While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced across 
the table, and gave a visible start as his eyes rested 
upon one of the young ladies — a pleasant-looking 
girl wearing a pink dress and having a blue ribbon 
in her hair. Mr. Glaston gave a little shudder and 
then turned away. 

“ That face — ah, where have I beheld it? * muttered 
Mr. Harwood to the doctor. 

“ Dam puppy ! ” said the doctor. 

Then the plate and fruit were laid before Mr. 
Glaston, who said quickly, “ Take them away. ” The 
bewildered waiter looked towards his chief and 
obeyed, so that Mr. Glaston remained with an empty 
plate. Robinson became uneasy. 

“Can I get you anything, sir? — we have three 
peaches aboard and a pine-apple?” he murmured. 

“ Can’t touch anything now, Robinson, ” Mr. Glas- 
ton answered. 

“ The doctor is right, ” said Mrs. Crawford. * You 
have no appetite, Mr. Glaston.” 

“ No, ” he replied ; “ not now, ” and he gave the least 
glance towards the girl in pink, who began to feel 
that all her school dreams of going forth into the 
world of men to conquer and overcome were being 
realized beyond her wildest anticipations. 

Then there was a pause at the table, which the 
good major broke by suddenly enquiring something 
of the captain. Mr. Glaston, however, sat silent, 
and somewhat sad apparently, until the breakfast 
was over. 

Daireen went into her cabin for a book, and re- 
mained arranging some volumes on the little shelf 
for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on deck when 


DAIREEN. 


73 


she ascended, and he was engaged in a very seri- 
ous conversation with Mrs. Crawford. 

“Something must be done. Surely she has a 
guardian aboard who is not so utterly lost to every- 
thing of truth and right as to allow that to go on 
unchecked.” 

These words Daireen could make out as she 
passed the young man and the major’s wife, and the 
girl began to fear that something terrible was about 
to happen. But Mr. Harwood, who was standing 
above the major’s chair, hastened forward as she 
appeared. 

“ Why, Major Crawford has been telling me that 
your father is Colonel Gerald, ” he said. “ Mrs. Craw- 
ford never mentioned that fact, thinking that I 
should be able to guess it for myself.” 

“Did you know papa?” Daireen asked. 

“ I met him several times when I was out about 
the Baroda affair,” said the “ special”. “ And as you 
are his daughter, I suppose it will interest you to 
know that he has been selected as the first governor 
of the Castaways.” 

Daireen looked puzzled. “The Castaways?” she 
said. 

“Yes, Miss Gerald; the lovely Castaway Islands 
which, you know, have just been annexed by Eng- 
land. Colonel Gerald has been chosen by the Co- 
lonial Secretary as the first governor.” 

“ But I heard nothing of this, ” said Daireen, a little 
astonished to receive such information in the Bay 
of Biscay. 

“How could you hear anything of it? No one 
outside the Cabinet has the least idea of it.” 

“ And you ” said the girl doubtfully. 

“ Ah, my dear Miss Gerald, the resources of in- 
formation possessed by the ‘Dominant Trumpeter’ 
are as unlimited as they are trustworthy. You may 
depend upon what I tell you. It is not generally 


74 


DAIREEN. 


known that I am now bound for the Castaway group, 
to make the British public aware of the extent of 
the treasure they have acquired in these sunny isles. 
But I understood that Colonel Gerald was on his 
way from Madras ? ” 

Daireen explained how her father came to be at 
the Cape, and Mr. Harwood gave her a few cheering 
words regarding his sickness. She was greatly dis- 
appointed when their conversation was interrupted 
by Mrs. Crawford. 

“ The poor fellow! ” she said — “Mr. Glaston,Imean. 
I have induced him to go down and eat some grapes 
and a pear.” 

“ Why couldn’t he take them at breakfast and not 
betray his idiocy?” said Mr. Harwood. 

“ Mr. Harwood, you have no sympathy for sufferers 
from sensitiveness,” replied the lady. “Poor Mr. 
Glaston 1 he had an excellent appetite, but he found 
it impossible to touch anything the instant he saw 
that fearful pink dress with the blue ribbon hang- 
ing over it.” 

“ Poor fellow 1 ” said Mr. Harwood. 

“ Dam puppy! ” said the doctor. 

“ Campion ! ” cried Mrs. Crawford severely. 

“A thousand pardons! my dear Miss Gerald,” said 
the transgressor. “But what can a man say when 
he hears of such puppyism ? This is my third voy- 
age with that young man, and he has been develop- 
ing into the full-grown puppy with the greatest 
rapidity.” 

“You have no fine feeling. Campion,” said Mrs. 
Crawford. “You have got no sympathy for those 
who are artistically sensitive. But hush ! here is the 
offending person herself, and with such a hat ! Now 
admit that to look at her sends a cold shudder 
through you.” 

“ I think her a devlish pretty little thing, by gad, ” 
said the doctor. 


DAIREEN, 


75 


The young lady with the pink dress and the blue 
ribbon appeared, wearing the additional horror of 
a hat lined with yellow and encircled with mighty 
flowers. 

“Something must be done to suppress her,’’ said 
Mrs. Crawford decisively. “ Surely such people 
must have a better side to their natures that one 
may appeal to.” 

“I doubt it, Mrs. Crawford,” said Mr. Harwood, 
with only the least tinge of sarcasm in his voice. 
“I admit that one might not have been in utter 
despair though the dress was rather aggressive, but 
I cannot see anything but depravity in that hat 
with those floral splendours.” 

“ But what is to be done ? ” said the lady. “ Mr. 
Glaston would, no doubt, advocate making a Jonah 
of that young person for the sake of saving the 
rest of the ship’s company. But, however just that 
might be, I do not suppose it would be considered 
strictly legal.” 

“ Many acts of justice are done that are not legal, ” 
replied Harwood gravely. “From a legal standpoint, 
Cain was no murderer — his accuser being witness 
and also judge. He would leave the court without 
a stain on his character nowadays. Meantime, 
major, suppose we have a smoke on the bridge.” 

“He fancies he has said something clever,” 
remarked Mrs. Crawford when he had walked away; 
and it must be confessed that Mr. Harwood had 
a suspicion to that effect 


CHAPTER X. 


His will is not his own; 

For he himself is subject to his birth: 

He may not, as imvalued persons do, 

Carve for himself; for on his choice depends 
The safety and the health of this whole state, 

And therefore must his choice be circumscribed 
Unto the voice and yielding of that body. 

Whereof he is the head. 

Osrtc. . . . Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most 
excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing ; indeed, 
to speak feelingly of him, he is the card ... of gentry 

Hamlet. . . . His definement suffers no perdition in you . . . 
But, in the verity of extolment I take him to be a soul of great 
article . — HamleU 


The information which Daireen had received on 
the unimpeachable authority of the special corre- 
spondent of the ‘Dominant Trumpeter’ was some- 
what puzzling to her at first; but as she reflected 
upon the fact that the position of governor of the 
newly-acquired Castaway group must be one of 
importance, she could not help feeling some happi- 
ness; only in the midmost heart of her joy her 
recollection clasped a single grief — a doubt about 
her father was still clinging to her heart. The 
letter her grandfather had received which caused 
her to make up her mind to set out for the Cape, 
merely stated that Colonel Gerald had been found 
too weak to continue the homeward voyage in the 
vessel that had brought him from India. He hadi 

76 


DAIREEN. 


77 


a bad attack of fever, and was not allowed to be 
moved from where he lay at the Cape. The girl 
thought over all of this as she reflected upon what 
Mr. Harwood had told her, and looking over the 
long restless waters of the Bay of Biscay from her 
seat far astern, her eyes became very misty; the 
unhappy author represented by the yellow-covered 
book which she had been reading lay neglected 
upon her knee. But soon her brave hopeful heart 
took courage, and she began to paint in her imagina- 
tion the fairest pictures of the future — a future 
beneath the rich blue sky that was alleged by the 
Ministers who had brought about the annexation, 
evermore to overshadow the Castaway group — a 
future beneath the purple shadow of the giant 
Slieve Docas when her father would have discharged 
his duties at the Castaways. 

She could not even pretend to herself to be 
reading the book she had brought up, so that Mrs. 
Crawford could not have been accused of an inter- 
ruption when she drew her chair alongside the 
girl’s, saying: 

“We must have a little chat together, now that 
there is a chance for it. It is really terrible how 
much time one can fritter away aboard ship. I 
have known people take long voyages for the sake 
of study, and yet never open a single book but a 
novel. By the way, what is this the major has 
been telling me Harwood says about your father? ” 

Daireen repeated all that Harwood had said 
regarding the new island colony, and begged Mrs. 
Crawford to give an opinion as to the trustworthi- 
ness of the information. 

“ My dear child, ” said Mrs. Crawford, “ you may 
depend upon its truth if Harwood told it to you. 
The ‘Dominant Trumpeter’ sends out as many 
arms as an octopus, for news, and, like the octopus 
too, it has the instinct of only making use of what 


78 


D AXR.KEN « 


is worth anything. The Government have been 
very good to George — I mean Colonel Gerald — he 
was always ‘George^ with us when he was lieuten- 
ant. The Castaway governorship is one of the nice 
things they sometimes have to dispose of to the 
deserving. It was thought, you know, that George 
would sell out and get his brevet long ago, but 
what he often said to us after your poor mother 
died convinced me that he would not accept a 
quiet life. And so it was Mr. Harwood that gave 
you this welcome news,” she continued, adding in 
a thoughtful tone, “ By the way, what do you think 
of Mr. Harwood?” 

“ I really have not thought anything about him, ” 
Daireen replied, wondering if it was indeed a 
necessity of life aboard ship to be able at a mo- 
ment’s notice to give a summary of her opinion as 
to the nature of every person she might chance to 
meet. 

“He is a very nice man,” said Mrs. Crawford; 
“ only just inclined to be conceited, don’t you think? 
This is our third voyage with him, so that we know 
something of him. One knows more of a person 
at the end of a week at sea than after a month 
ashore. What can be keeping Mr. Glaston over 
his pears, I wonder? I meant to have presented 
him to you before. Ah, here he comes out of the 
companion. I asked him to return to me.” 

But again Mrs. Crawford’s expectations were 
dashed to the ground. Mr. Glaston certainly did 
appear on deck, and showed some sign in a languid 
way of walking over to where Mrs. Crawford was 
sitting, but unfortunately before he had taken half- 
a-dozen steps he caught sight of that terrible pink 
dress and the hat wiSi the jaundiced interior. He 
stopped short, and a look of martyrdom passed over 
his face as he turned and made his way to the 
bridge in the opposite direction to where that horror 


DAIREEK. 


79 


of pronounced tones sat quite unconscious of the 
agony her appearance was creating in the aesthetic 
soul of the young man. 

Daireen having glanced up and seen the look of 
dismay upon his face, and the flight of Mr. Glaston, 
could not avoid laughing outright so soon as he 
had disappeared. But Mrs. Cra^^ord did not laugh. 
On the contrary she looked very grave. 

“This is terrible — terrible, Daireen,” she said. 
“That vile hat has driven him away. I knew it 
must.” 

“Matters are getting serious indeed,” said the girl, 
with only the least touch of mockery in her voice. 
“ If he is not allowed to eat anything at breakfast 
in sight of the dress, and he is driven up to the 
bridge by a glimpse of the hat, I am afraid that 
his life will not be quite happy here.” 

“Happy! my dear, you cannot conceive the ago- 
nies he endures through his sensitiveness. I must 
make the acquaintance of that young person and 
try to bring her to see the error of her ways. Oh, 
how fortunate you had this chocolate-gray I ” 

“ I must have thought of it in a moment of inspira- 
tion,” said Daireen. 

“ Come, you really mustn’t laugh, ” said the elder 
lady reprovingly. “ It was a happy thought, at any 
rate, and I only hope that you will be able to sus- 
tain its effect by something good at dinner. I must 
look over your trunks and tell you what tone is 
most artistic.” 

Daireen began to feel rebellious. 

“My dear Mrs. Crawford, it is very kind of you 
to offer to take so much trouble ; but, you see, I 
do not feel it to be a necessity to choose the shade 
of my dress solely to please the taste of a gentle- 
man who may not be absolutely perfect in his 
ideas. ” 

Mrs. Crawford laughed. “Do not get angry, my 


8o 


DAIREEN. 


dear,” she said. *1 admire your spirit, and I 
will not attempt to control your own good taste; 
you will never, 1 am sure, sink to such a depth of 
depravity as is manifested by that hat.” 

“Well, I think you may depend on me so far,” 
said Daireen. 

Shortly afterwards Mrs. Crawford descended to 
arrange some matters in her cabin, and Daireen 
had consequently an opportunity of returning to her 
neglected author. 

But before she had made much progress in her 
study she was again interrupted, and this time by 
Doctor Campion, who had been smoking with Mr. 
Harwood on the ship^s bridge. Doctor Campion 
was a small man, with a reddish face upon which 
a perpetual frown was resting. He had a jerky 
way of turning his head as if it was set upon a 
ratchet wheel only capable of shifting a tooth at a 
time. He had been in the army for a good many 
years, and had only accepted the post aboard the 
Cardwell Castle for the sake of his health. 

“Young cub!” he muttered, as he came up to 
Daireen. “ Infernal young cub 1 — I beg your pardon. 
Miss Gerald, but I really must say it. That fellow 
Glaston is getting out of all bounds. Ah, it’s his father’s 
fault — his father’s fault. Keeps him dawdling about 
England without any employment. Why, it would 
have been better for him to have taken to the 
Church, as they call it, at once, idle though the 
business is.” 

“ Surely you have not been wearing an inartistic 
tie. Doctor Campion? ” 

“Inartistic indeed! The puppy has got so much 
cant on his finger-ends that weak-minded people 
think him a genius. Don’t you believe it, my dear ; 
he’s a dam puppy — excuse me, but there’s really no 
drawing it mild here.” 

Daireen was amused at the doctor’s vehemence, 


DAIREEN. 


8l 


however shocked she may have been at his man- 
ner of getting rid of it. 

“What on earth has happened with Mr. Glaston 
now ? ” she asked. “ It is impossible that there could 
be another obnoxious dress aboard.” 

“ He hasn’t given himself any airs in that direction 
since,” said the doctor. “But he came up to the 
bridge where we were smoking, and after he had 
talked for a minute with Harwood, he started when 
he saw a boy who had been sent up to clean out 
one of the hencoops — asked if we didn’t think his 
head marvellously like Carlyle’s — was amazed at our 
want of judgment — went up to the boy and cross- 
questioned him — found out that his father sells 
vegetables to the Victoria Docks — asked if it had 
ever been remarked before that his head was like 
Carlyle’s — boy says quickly that if the man he means 
is the tailor in Wapping, anybody that says his 
head is like that man’s is a liar, and then boy goes 
quietly down. ‘Wonderful!’ says our genius, as 
he comes over to us; ‘Wonderful head — exactly 
the same as Carlyle’s, and language marvellously 
similar — brief— earnest — emphatic — full of powahl* 
Then he goes on to say he’ll takes notes of the 
boy’s peculiarities and send them to a magazine. I 
couldn’t stand any more of that sort of thing, so I 
left him with Harwood. Harwood can sift him.” 

Daireen laughed at this new story of the young 
man whose movements seemed to be regarded as of 
so much importance by everyone aboard the steamer. 
She began really to feel interested in this Mr. Glaston ; 
and she thought that perhaps she might as well be 
particular about the tone of the dress she would 
select for appearing in before the judicial eyes of 
this Mr. Glaston. She relinquished the design she 
had formed in her mind while Mrs. Crawford was 
urging on her the necessity for discrimination in 
this respect; she had resolved to show a recklessness 

6 


82 


DAIREEN. 


in her choice of a dress, but now she felt that she 
had better take Mrs. Crawford^s advice, and give 
some care to the artistic combinations of her toilette. 

The result of her decision was that she appeared 
in such studious carelessness of attire that Mr. 
Glaston, sitting opposite to her, was enabled to eat 
a hearty dinner utterly regardless of the aggressive 
splendour of the imperial blue dress worn by the 
other young lady, with a pink ribbon flowing over 
it from her hair. This young lady’s imagination 
was unequal to suggesting a more diversified ar- 
rangement than she had already shown. She thought 
it gave evidence of considerable strategical resources 
to wear that pink ribbon over the blue dress: it 
was very nearly as effective as the blue ribbon 
over the pink, of the morning. The appreciation 
of contrast as an important element of effect in 
art was very strongly developed in this young lady. 

Mrs. Crawford did not conceal the satisfaction 
she felt observing the appetite of Mr. Glaston; and 
after dinner she took his arm as he went towards 
the bridge. 

“I am so glad you were not offended with that 
dreadful young person’s hideous colours,” she said, 
as they strolled along. 

“ I could hardly have believed it possible that such 
wickedness could survive nowadays, ” he replied. 
“But I was, after the first few minutes, quite un- 
conscious of its enormity. My dear Mrs. Crawford, 
your young protegee appeared as a spirit of light 
to charm away that fiend of evil. She sat before 
me — a poem of tones — a delicate symphony of Schu- 
mann’s played at twilight on the brink of a mere 
of long reeds and water-flags, with a single star 
shining through the well-defined twigs of a solitary 
alder. That was her idea, don’t you think ? ” 

“I have no doubt of it,” the lady replied after a 
little pause." But if you allow me to present you 


DAIREEN. 83 

to her you will have an opportunity of finding out. 
Now do let me.” 

“Not this evening, Mrs. Crawford; I do not feel 
equal to it, ” he answered. “ She has given me too 
much to think about — too many ideas to work out. 
That was the most thoughtful and pure-souled 
toilette I ever recollect; but there are a few points 
about it I do not fully grasp, though I have an 
instinct of their meaning. No, I want a quiet hour 
alone. But you will do me the favour to thank 
the child for me.” 

“ I wish you would come and do it yourself, ” said 
the lady. “ But I suppose there is no use attempting 
to force you. If you change your mind, remember 
that we shall be here.” 

She left the young man preparing a cigarette, 
and joined Daireen and the major, who were sitting 
far astern: the girl with that fiction of a fiction 
still in her hand; her companion with a cheroot that 
was anything but insubstantial in his fingers. 

“ My dear child, ” whispered Mrs. Crawford, “ I am 
so glad you took your own way and would not 
allow me to choose your dress for you. I could 

never have dreamt of anything so perfect and 

yes, it is far beyond what I could have composed. ” 

Mrs. Crawford thought it better on the whole not 
to transfer to Daireen the expression of gratitude 
Mr. Glaston had begged to be conveyed to her. 
She had an uneasy consciousness that such a mes- 
sage coming to one who was as yet unacquainted 
with Mr. Glaston might give her the impression 
that he was inclined to have some of that unhappy 
conceit, with the possession of which Mrs. Crawford 
herself had accredited the race generally. 

“Miss Gerald is an angel in whatever dress she 
may wear,” said the major gallantly. “What is 
dress, after all?” he asked. “By gad, my dear, the 
finest women I ever recollect seeing were in Bur- 


84 


DAIREEN. 


mah, and all the dress they wore was the merest * 

"Major, you forget yourself,” cried his wife 
severely. 

The major pulled vigorously at the end of his 
moustache, grinning and bobbing his head towards 
the doctor. 

" By gad, my dear, the recollection of those 
beauties would make any fellow forget not only 
himself but his own wife, even if she was as fine 
a woman as yourself.” 

The doctor’s face relapsed into its accustomed 
frown after he had given a responsive grin and a 
baritone chuckle to the delicate pleasantry of his 
old comrade. 


CHAPTER XL 


Look, with what courteous action 
It waves you to a more removed ground: 

But do not go with it. 

The very place puts toys of desperation, 

Without more motive, into every brain. 

Horatio. What are they that would speak with me? 

Servant. Sea-faring men, sir. — Hamlet. 

Who does not know the delightful monotony of 
a voyage southward, broken only at the intervals 
of anchoring beneath the brilliant green slopes of 
Madeira or under the grim shadow of the cliffs of 
Saint Helena? 

The first week of the voyage for those who are 
not sensitive of the uneasy motion of the ship 
through the waves of the Bay of Biscay is perhaps 
the most delightful, for then everyone is courteous 
with everyone else. The passengers have not 
become friendly enough to be able to quarrel satis- 
factorily. The young ladies have got a great deal 
of white about them, and they have not begun to 
show that jealousy of each other which the next 
fortnight so powerfully develops. The men, too, 
are prodigal in their distribution of cigars; and one 
feels in one^s own heart nothing but the most 
generous emotions, as one sits filling a meerschaum 
with Latakia in the delicate twilight of time and 
of thought that succeeds the curried lobster and 
85 


86 


DAIREEN. 


pilau chickens as prepared in the galley of such 
ships as the Cardwell Castle, Certainly for a week 
of Sabbaths a September voyage to Madeira must 
be looked to. 

Things had begun to arrange themselves aboard 
the Cardwell Castle. The whist sets and the deck 
sets had been formed. The far-stretching arm of 
society had at least one finger in the construction 
of the laws of life in this Atlantic ship-town. 

The young woman with the pronounced tastes in 
colour and the large resources of imagination in the 
arrangement of blue and pink had become less 
aggressive, as she was compelled to fall back upon 
the minor glories of her trunk, so that there was 
no likelihood of Mr. Glaston^s perishing of starvation. 
Though very fond of taking-up young ladies, Mrs. 
Crawford had no great struggle with her propensity 
so far as this young lady was concerned. But as 
Mr. Glaston had towards the evening of the third 
day of the voyage found himself in a fit state of 
mind to be presented to Miss Gerald, Mrs. Craw- 
ford had nothing to complain of. She knew that 
the young man was invariably fascinating to all of 
her sex, and she could see no reason why Miss 
Gerald should not have at least the monotony of 
the voyage relieved for her through the improving 
nature of his conversation. To be sure, Mr. Har- 
wood also possessed in his conversation many 
elements of improvement, but then they were of a 
more commonplace type in Mrs. Cra^ord’s eyes, 
and she thought it as well, now and again when 
he was sitting beside Daireen, to make a third to 
their party and assist in the solution of any question 
they might be discussing. She rather wished that 
it had not been in Mr. Harwood's power to give 
Daireen that information about her father’s appoint- 
ment; it was a sort of link of friendship between 
him and the girl; but Mrs. Crawford recollected her 


DAIREEN. 


87 


own responsibility with regard to Daireen too well 
to allow such a frail link to become a bond to bind 
with any degree of force. 

She was just making a mental resolution to 
this effect upon the day preceding their expected 
arrival at Madeira, when Mr. Harwood, who had 
before tiffin been showing the girl how to adjust a 
binocular glass, strolled up to where the major’s 
wife sat resolving many things, reflecting upon her 
victories in quarter-deck campaigns of the past and 
laying out her tactics for the future. 

“ This is our third voyage together, is it not, Mrs. 
Crawford ? ” he asked. 

“ Let me see,” said the lady. “ Yes, it is our third. 
Dear, dear, how time runs past us ! ” 

“ I wish it did run past us ; unfortunately it seems 
to remain to work some of its vengeance upon each 
of us. But do you think we ever had a more 
charming voyage so far as this has run, Mrs. Craw- 
ford? ” 

The lady became thoughtful. “ That was a very 
nice trip in the P. & O.’s Turcoman^ when Mr. 
Carpingham of the Gunners proposed to Clara Wal- 
ton before he landed at Aden, ” she said. “ Curiously 
enough, I was thinking about that very voyage 
just before you came up now. Gener^ Walton 
had placed Clara in my care, and it was I who 
presented her to young Carpingham.” There was 
a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she recalled 
this victory of the past. 

“I remember well,” said Mr. Harwood. “How 
pleased everyone was, and also how — well, the 
weather was extremely warm in the Red Sea just 
before he proposed. But I certainly think that this 
voyage is likely to be quite as pleasant By the 
way, wffiat a charming proUg^e you have got this 
time, Mrs. Crawford.” 

“She is a dear girl indeed, and I hope that she 


88 


DAIREEN. 


may find her father all right at the Cape. Think 
of what she must suffer.” 

Mr. Harwood glanced round and saw that Mr. 
Glaston had strolled up to Daireen’s chair. “Yes, 
I have no doubt that she suffers,” he said. “But 
she is so gentle, so natural in her thoughts and in 
her manner, I should indeed be sorry that any 
trouble would come to her. ” He was himself speak- 
ing gently now — so gently, in fact, that Mrs. 
Crawford ^ew her lips together with a slight pres- 
sure. “Perhaps it is because I am so much older 
than she that she talks to me naturally as she 
would to her father. I am old enough to be her 
father, I suppose,” he added almost mournfully. But 
this only made the lady’s lips become more com- 
pressed. She had heard men talk before now of 
being old enough to be young ladies’ fathers, and 
she could also recollect instances of men who were 
actually old enough to be young ladies’ grand- 
fathers marrying those very young ladies. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Daireen is a dear 
natural little thing.” Into the paternal potentialities 
of Mr. Harwood’s position towards this dear natural 
little thing Mrs. Crawford did not think ‘it judicious 
to go just then. 

“ She is a dear child, ” he repeated. “ By the way, 
we shall be at Funchal at noon to-morrow, and we 
do not leave until the evening. You will land, I 
suppose ? ” 

“ I don’t think I shall, I know every spot so well, 
and those bullock sleighs are so tiresome. I am not 
so young as I was when I first made their ac- 
quaintance.” 

“Oh, really, if that is your only plea, my dear 
Mrs. Crawford, we may count on your being in our 
party. ” 

“ Our party! ” said the lady. 

“I should not say that until I get your consent,” 


DAIREEN. 


89 


said Harwood quickly. “Miss Gerald has never 
been at the island, you see, and she is girlishly 
eager to go ashore. Miss Butler and her mother 
are also landing”— these were other passengers — 
“ and in a weak moment I volunteered my services 
as guide. Don’t you think you can trust me so far 
as to agree to be one of us?” 

“ Of course I can, ” she said. “ If Daireen wishes 
to go ashore you may depend upon my keeping 
her company. But you will have to provide a 
sleigh for myself.” 

“You may depend upon the sleigh, Mrs. Craw- 
ford; and many thanks for your trusting to my 
guidance. Though I sleigh you yet you will trust me. ” 

“ Mr. Harwood, that is dreadful. I am afraid that 
Mrs. Butler will need one of them also.” 

“The entire sleigh service shall be impressed if 
necessary,” said the “special,” as he walked away. 

Mrs. Crawford felt that she had not done anything 
rash. Daireen would, no doubt, be delighted with 
the day among the lovely heights of Madeira, and 
if by some little thoughtfulness it would be possible 
to hit upon a plan that should give over the guidance 
of some of the walking members of the party to 
Mr. Glaston, surely the matter was worth pursuing. 

Mr. Glaston was just at this instant looking into 
Daireen’s face as he talked to her. He invariably 
kept his eyes fixed upon the faces of the young 
women to whom he was fond of talking. It did not 
argue any earnestness on his part, Mrs. Crawford 
knew. He seemed now, however, to be a little in 
earnest in what he was saying. But then Mrs. 
Crawford reflected that the subjects upon which his 
discourse was most impassioned were mostly those 
that other people would call trivial, such as the 
effect produced upon the mind of man by seeing 
a grape-green ribbon lying upon a pale amber 
cushion. “ Every colour has got its soul, ” she once 


90 


DAIREEN. 


heard him say; * and though anyone can appreciate 
its meaning and the work it has to perform in the 
world, the subtle thoughts breathed by the tones 
are too delicate to be understood except by a few. 
Colour is language of the subtlest nature, and one 
can praise God through that medium just as one can 
blaspheme through it. ” He had said this very earnestly 
at one time, she recollected, and as she now saw 
Daireen laugh she thought it was not impossible 
that it might be at some phrase of the same nature, 
the meaning of which her uncultured ear did not at 
once catch, that Daireen had laughed. Daireen, 
at any rate, did laugh in spite of his earnestness 
of visage. 

In a few moments Mr. Glaston came over to 
Mrs. Crawford, and now his face wore an expres- 
sion of sadness rather than of any other emotion. 

“ My dear Mrs. Crawford, you surely cannot 
intend to give your consent to that child’s going 
ashore to-morrow. She tells me that that news- 
paper fellow has drawn her into a promise to land 
with a party — actually a party — and go round the 
place like a Cook’s excursion.” 

“ Oh, I hope we shall not be like that, Mr. 
Glaston,” said Mrs. Crawford. 

“But you have not given your consent?” 

“K Daireen would enjoy it I do not see how I 
could avoid. Mr. Harwood was talking to me just 
now. He seems to think she will enjoy herself, 
as she has never seen the island before. Will you 
not be one of our party?” 

“Oh, Mrs. Crawford, if you have got the least 
regard for me, do not say that word party; it 
means everything that is popular; it suggests unut- 
terable horrors to me. No subsequent pleasure 
could balance the agony I should endure going 
ashore. Will you not try and induce that chSd to 
I give up the idea? Tell her what dreadful taste it 


DAIREEN. 


91 


would be to join a party — that it would most cer- 
tainly destroy her perceptions of beauty for months 
to come.” 

“ I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood, ” said 
the lady; “if going ashore would do all of this it 
would certainly be better for Daireen to remain 
aboard. But they will be taking in coals here,” 
she added, as the sudden thought struck her. 

“She can shut herself in her cabin and neither 
see nor hear anything offensive. Who but a news- 
paper man would think of suggesting to cultured 
people the possibility of enjoyment in a party?” 

But the newspaper man had strolled up to the 
place beside Daireen, which the aesthetic man had 
vacated. He knew something of the art of strate- 
gical defence, this newspaper man, and he was well 
aware that as he had got the promise of the ma- 
jor’s wife, all the arguments that might be advanced 
by anyone else would not cause him to be defrauded 
of the happiness of being by this girl’s side in one 
of the loveliest spots of the world. 

“I will find out what Daireen thinks,” said Mrs. 
Crawford, in reply to Mr. Glaston; and just then 
she turned and saw the newspaper man beside 
the girl. 

“ Never mind him,” said Mr. Glaston; “ tell the poor 
child that it is impossible for her to go.” 

“I really cannot break my promise,” replied the 
lady. “We must be resigned, it will only be for a 
few hours.” 

“ This is the saddest thing I ever knew, ” said Mr. 
Glaston. “ She will lose all the ideas she was getting — 
all through being of a party. Good heavens, a party! ” 

Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston was 
annoyed at the presence of Harwood by the side 
of the girl, and she smiled, for she was too old a 
tactician not to be well aware of the value of a 
skeleton enemy. 


92 


DAIREEN. 


“ How kind of you to say you would not mind my 
going ashore,” said Daireen, walking up to her. 
“We shall enjoy ourselves I am sure, and Mr. 
Harwood knows every spot to take us to. I was 
afraid that Mr. Glaston might be talking to you as 
he was to me.” 

“Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my dear, 
if you think you would like to go ashore I shall not 
say anything but that I will be happy to take care 
of you.” 

“You are all that is good,” said Mr. Harwood. 
This was very pretty, the lady thought — very pretty 
indeed; but at the same time she was making up 
her mind that if the gentleman before her had 
conceived it probable that he should be left to 
exhibit any of the wonders of the island scenery to 
the girl, separate from the companionship of the 
girl's temporary guardian, he would certainly find out 
that he had reckoned without due regard to other 
contingencies. 

Sadness was the only expression visible upon the 
face of Mr. Glaston for the remainder of this day; 
but upon the following morning this aspect had 
changed to one of contempt as he heard nearly all 
the cabin's company talking with expectancy of the 
joys of a few hours ashore. It was. a great disap- 
pointment to him to observe the brightening of the 
face of Daireen Gerald, as Mr. Harwood came to 
tell her that the land was in sight. 

Daireen's face, however, did brighten. She went 
up to the ship's bridge, and Mr. Harwood, laying 
one hand upon her shoulder, pointed out with the 
other where upon the horizon lay a long, low, gray 
cloud. Mrs. Crawford observing his action, and 
being well aware that the girl's range of vision was 
not increased in the smallest degree by the touch 
of his fingers upon her shoulder, made a resolution 
that she herself would be the first to show Daireen 


DAIREEN. 


93 


the earliest view of Saint Helena when they should 
be approaching that island. 

But there lay that group of cloud, and onward 
the good steamer sped. In the course of an hour 
the formless mass had assumed a well-defined outline 
against the soft blue sky. Then a lovely white bird 
came about the ship from the distance like a spirit 
from those Fortunate Islands. In a short time a 
gleam of sunshine was seen reflected from the flat 
surface of a cliff, and then the dark chasms upon the 
face of each of the island-rocks of the Dezertas could 
be seen. But when these were passed the long 
island of Madeira appeared gray and massive, and 
with a white cloud clinging about its highest ridges. 
Onward still, and the thin white thread of foam 
encircling the rocks was perceived. Then the out- 
line of the cliffs stood defined against the fainter 
background of the island ; but still all was gray and 
colourless. Not for long, however, for the sunlight 
smote the clouds and broke their gray masses, and 
then fell around the ridges, showing the green heights 
of vines and slopes of sugar-canes. But it was not 
until the roll of the waves against the cliff-faces was 
heard that the cloud-veil was lifted and all the glad 
green beauty of the slope flashed up to the blue sky, 
and thrilled all those who stood on the deck of the 
vessel. 

Along this lovely coast the vessel moved through 
the sparkling green ripples. Not the faintest white 
fleck of cloud was now in the sky, and the sunlight 
falling downwards upon the island, brought out 
every brown rock of the coast in bold relief against 
the brilliant green of the slope. So close to the 
shore the vessel passed, the nearer cliffs appeared 
to glide away as the land in their shade was 
disclosed, and this effect of soft motion was entranc- 
ing to all who experienced it. Then the low 
headland with the island-rock crowned with a small 


94 


DAIREEN. 


pillared building was reached and passed, and the 
lovely bay of Funchal came in view. 

Daireen, who had lived among the sombre 
magnificence of the Irish scenery, felt this soft 
dazzling green as something marvellously strange 
and unexpected. Had not Mr. Glaston descended 
to his cabin at the earliest expression of delight 
that was forced from the lips of some young lady 
on the deck, he would have been still more 
disappointed with Daireen, for her face was shining 
with happiness. But Mr. Harwood found more 
pleasure in watching her face than he did in gazing 
at the long crescent slope of the bay, and at the 
white houses that peeped from amongst the vines, 
or at the high convent of the hill. He did not 
speak a word to the girl, but only watched her as 
she drank in everything of beauty that passed 
before her. 

Then the Loo rock at the farther point of the 
bay was neared, and as the engine slowed, the 
head of the steamer was brought round towards the 
white town of Funchal, spread all about the beach 
where the huge rollers were breaking. The tinkle 
of the engine-room telegraph brought a wonderful 
silence over everything as the propeller ceased. 
The voice of the captain giving orders about the 
lead line was heard distinctly, and the passengers 
felt inclined to speak in whispers. Suddenly with 
a harsh roar the great chain cable rushes out and 
the anchor drops into the water. 

" This is the first stage of our voyage,” said Mr. 
Harwood. “ Now, while I select a boat, will you 
kindly gel ready for landing? Oh, Mrs. Crawford, 
you will be with us at once, I suppose?” 

“Without the loss of a moment,” said the lady, 
going down to the cabins with Daireen. 

The various island authorities pushed off from 
the shore in their boats, sitting under canvas awnings 


DAIREEN. 


95 


and looking unpleasantly like banditti. Doctor 
Campion answered their kind enquiries regarding 
the health of the passengers, for nothing could exceed 
the attentive courtesy shown by the government 
in this respect 

Then a young Scotchman, who had resolved to 
emulate Mr. Harwood^s example in taking a party 
ashore, began making a bargain by signs with one 
of the boatmen, while his friends stood around. 
The major and the doctor having plotted together 
to go up to pay a visit to an Hotel, pushed off 
in a government boat without acquainting anyone 
with their movements. But long before the Scotch- 
man had succeeded in reducing the prohibitory sum 
named by the man with whom he was treating for 
the transit of the party ashore, Mr. Harwood had a 
boat waiting at the rail for his friends, and Mrs. 
Butler and her daughter were in act to descend, 
chatting with the “special” who was to be their 
guide. Another party had already left for the shore, 
the young lady who had worn the blue and pink 
appearing in a bonnet surrounded with resplendent 
flowers and beads. But before the smiles of Mrs. 
Butler and Harwood had passed away, Mrs. Crawford 
and Daireen had come on deck again, the former 
with many apologies for her delay. 

Mr. Harwood ran down the sloping rail to assist 
the ladies into the boat that rose and fell with every 
throb of the waves against the ship’s side. Mrs. 
Crawford followed him and was safely stowed in a 
place in the stern. Then came Mrs. Butler and 
her daughter, and while Mr. Harwood was handing 
them off the last step Daireen began to descend. 
But she had not got further down than to where 
a young sailor was kneeling to shift the line of one 
of the fruit boats, when she stopped suddenly with 
a great start that almost forced a cry from her. 

“For God’s sake go on— give no sign if you 


96 


DAIREEN. 


don’t wish to make me wretched,” said the sailor 
in a whisper. 

“ Come, Miss Gerald, we are waiting, ” cried Harwood 
up the long rail. 

Daireen remained irresolute, for a moment, then 
walked slowly down, and allowed herself to be 
handed into the boat. . 

“Surely you are not timid, Miss Gerald,” said 
Harwood as the boat pushed off. 

“Timid?” said Daireen mechanically. 

“ Yes, your hand was really trembling as I helped 
you down.” 

“No, no, I am not — not timid, only — I fear I 
shall not be very good company to-day; I feel — ” 
she looked back to the steamer and did not finish 
her sentence. 

Mr. Harwood glanced at her for a moment, thinking 
if it really could be possible that she was regretting 
the absence of Mr. Glaston. Mrs. Crawford also 
looked at her and came to the conclusion that, at 
the last moment, the girl was recalling the aesthetic 
instructions of the young man who was doubtless 
sitting lonely in his cabin while she was bent on 
enjoying herself with a “party.” 

But Daireen was only thinking how it was she 
had refrained from crying out when she saw the 
face of that sailor on the rail, and when she heard 
his voice; and it must be confessed that it was rather 
singular, taking into account the fact that she had 
recognized in the features and voice of that sailor 
the features and voice of Standish Macnamara. 


CHAPTER Xn. 


Your visitation shall receive such thanki 
As fits . . , remembrance. 

. . . Thus do we of wisdom and of reach, 

With windlasses and with assays of bias, 

By indirections find directions out. 

More matter with less art — Hamlet, 

The thin white silk thread of a moon was hanging 
in the blue twilight over the darkened western 
slope of the island, and almost within the horns of 
its crescent a planet was burning without the least 
tremulous motion. The lights of the town were 
glimmering over the waters, and the strange, wildly 
musical cries of the bullock-drivers were borne 
faintly out to the steamer, mingling with the sound 
of the bell of Saint Mary’s on the Mount. 

The vessel had just begun to move away from 
its anchorage, and Daireen Gerald was standing on 
the deck far astern leaning over the bulwarks looking 
back upon the island slope whose bright green had 
changed to twilight purple. Not of the enjoyment 
of the day she had spent up among the vines was 
the girl thinking ; her memory fled back to the past 
days spent beneath the shadow of a slope that was 
always purple, with a robe of heather clinging to it 
from base to summit 

“ I hope you don’t regret having taken my advice 

*7 7 


98 


DAIREEN. 


about going on shore, Miss Gerald, ” said Mr. 
Harwood, who had come beside her. 

“Oh, no,” she said; “it was all so lovely— so 
unlike what I ever saw or imagined.” 

“It has always seemed lovely to me,” he said, 
“but to-day it was very lovely. I had got some 
pleasant recollections of the island before, but now the 
memories I shall retain will be the happiest of my life. ” 

“Was to-day really so much pleasanter?” asked 
the girl quicldy. “ Then I am indeed fortunate in 
my first visit. But you were not at any part of 
the island that you had not seen before,” she added, 
after a moment’s pause. 

“No,” he said quietly. “But I saw all to-day 
under a new aspect.” 

“ You had not visited it in September? Ah, I 
recollect now having heard that this was the best 
month for Madeira. You see I am fortunate.” 

“Yes, you are — fortunate,” he said slowly. “You 
are fortunate; you are a child; I am — a man.” 

Daireen was quite puzzled by his tone; it was 
one of sadness, and she knew that he was not 
accustomed to be sad. He had not been so at any 
time through the day when they were up among 
the vineyards looking down upon the tiny ships in 
the harbour beneath them, or wandering through 
the gardens surrounding the villa at which they had 
lunched after being presented by their guide — no, 
he had certainly not displayed any sign of sadness 
then. But here he was now beside her watching 
the lights of the shore twinkling into dimness, and 
speaking in this way that puzzled her. 

“I don’t know why, if you say you will have 
only pleasant recollections of to-day, you should 
speak in a tone like that,” she said. 

“No, no, you would not understand it,” he replied. 
If she had kept silence after he had spoken his 
previous sentence, he would have been tempted to 


DAIREEN. 


99 


say to her what he had on his heart, but her question 
made him hold back his words, for it proved to him 
what he told her — she would not understand him. 

It is probable, however, that Mrs. Crawford, who 
by the merest accident, of course, chanced to come 
from the cabin at this moment, would have under- 
stood even the most enigmatical utterance that might 
pass from his lips on the subject of his future 
memories of the day they had spent on the. island; 
she felt quite equal to the solution of .any question 
of psychological analysis that might arise. But she 
contented herself now by calling Daireen’s attention 
to the flashing of the phosphorescent water at the 
base of the cliffs round which the vessel was moving, 
and the observance of this phenomenon drew the 
girl’s thoughts away from the possibility of discover- 
ing the meaning of the man’s words. The major 
and his old comrade Doctor Campion then came 
near and expressed the greatest anxiety to learn 
how their friends had passed the day. Both major 
and doctor were in the happiest of moods. They 
had visited the Hotel they agreed in stating, and 
no one on the deck undertook to prove anything 
to the contrary — no one, in fact, seemed to doubt 
in the least the truth of what they said. 

In a short time Mrs. Crawford and Daireen were 
left alone; not for long, however, for Mr. Glaston 
strolled languidly up. 

“I cannot say I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he 
said. “ I know very well you did not. I hope you 
could not.” 

Daireen laughed. “Your hopes are misplaced, I 
fear, Mr. Glaston,” she answered. “We had a very 
happy day — had we not, Mrs. Crawford?” 

“I am afraid we had, dear.” 

“Why, Mr. Harwood said distinctly to me just 
now,” continued Daireen, “that it was the pleas- 
antest day he had ever passed upon the island.” 


BOO 


DAIREEN. 


“Ah, he said so? well, you see, he is a news- 
paper man, and they all look at things from a 
popular standpoint; whatever is popular is right, is 
their motto; while ours is, whatever is popular is 
wrong.” 

He felt himself speaking as the representative 
of a class, no doubt, when he made use of the 
plural. 

“ Yes ; Mr. Harwood seemed even more pleased 
than we were,” continued the girl. “He told me 
that the recollection of our exploration to-day would 
be the — the — yes, the happiest of his life. He did 
indeed,” she added almost triumphantly. 

“ Did he ? ” said Mr. Glaston slowly. 

“My dear child,” cried Mrs. Crawford, quickly 
interposing, “he has got that way of talking. He 
has, no doubt, said those very words to every person 
he took ashore on his previous visits. He has, I 
know, said them every evening for a fortnight in 
the Mediterranean.” 

“ Then you don’t think he means anything beyond 
a stupid compliment to us? What a wretched thing 
it is to be a girl, after all. Never mind, I enjoyed 
myself beyond any doubt.” 

“ It is impossible — quite impossible, child, ” said the 
young man. “ Enjoyment with a refined organization 
such as yours can never be anything that is not 
reflective — it is something that cannot be shared 
with a number of persons. It is quite impossible 
that you could have any feeling in common with 
such a mind as this Mr. Harwood’s or with the other 
people who went ashore. I heard nothing but 
expressions of enjoyment, and I felt really sad to 
think that there was not a refined soul among 
them all. They enjoyed themselves, therefore you 
did not.” 

“ I think I can understand you, ” said Mrs. Crawford 
at once, for she feared that Daireen might attempt 


DAIREEN. 


lOI 


to question the point he insisted on. Of course when 
the superior intellect of Mr. Glaston demonstrated 
that they could not have enjoyed themselves, it was 
evident that it was their own sensations which were 
deceiving them. Mrs. Crawford trusted to the decision 
of the young man’s intellect more implicitly than she 
did her own senses: just as Christopher Sly, old 
Sly’s son of Burton Heath, came to believe the 
practical jesters. 

“Should you enjoy the society and scenery of a 
desert island better than an inhabited one?” asked 
the girl, somewhat rebellious at the concessions of 
Mrs. Crawford. 

“ Undoubtedly, if everything was in good taste, ” 
he answered quietly. 

“ That is, if everything was in accordance with 
your own taste,” came the voice of Mr. Harwood, 
who, unseen, had rejoined the party. 

Mr. Glaston made no reply. He had previously 
become aware of the unsatisfactory results of making 
any answers to such men as wrote for newspapers. 
As he had always considered such men outside 
the world of art in which he lived and to the 
inhabitants of which he addressed himself, it was 
hardly to be expected that he would put himself on 
a level of argument with them. In fact, Mr. Glaston 
rarely consented to hold an argument with anyone. 
If people maintained opinions different from his own, 
it was so much the worse for those people — that 
was all he felt. It was to a certain circle of young 
women in good society that he preferred addressing 
himself, for he knew that to each individual in that 
circle he appeared as the prophet and high priest 
of art. His tone-poems in the college magazine, 
his impromptus — musical aquarellen he called them 
— performed in secret and out of hearing of any 
earthly audience, his colour-harmonies, his statuesque 
idealisms — all these were his priestly ministrations; 


103 


DAIREEN. 


while the interpretation, not of his own works — this 
he never attempted — but of the works of three 
poets belonging to what he called his school, of one 
painter, and of one musical composer, was his 
prophetical service. 

It was obviously impossible that such a man could 
put himself on that mental level which would be 
implied by his action should he consent to make 
any answer to a person like Mr. Harwood. But 
apart from these general grounds, Mr. Glaston had 
got concrete reasons for declining to discuss any sub- 
ject with this newspaper man. He knew that it was 
Mr. Harwood who had called the tone-poems of the 
college magazine alliterative conundrums for young 
ladies ; that it was Mr. Harwood who had termed one 
of the colour-harmonies a study in virulent jaundice; 
that it was Mr. Harwood who had, after smiling on 
being told of the aquarellen impromptus, expressed 
a desire to hear one of these compositions — all this 
Mr. Glaston knew well, and so when Mr. Harwood 
made that remark about taste Mr. Glaston did not 
reply. 

Daireen, however, did not feel the silence oppres- 
sive. She kept her eyes fixed upon that thin thread 
of moon that was now almost touching the dark ridge 
of the island. 

Harwood looked at her for a few moments, and 
then he too leaned over the side of the ship and 
gazed at that lovely moon and its burning star. 

“How curious,” he said gently — “ how very curi- 
ous, is it not, that the sight of that hill and that 
moon should bring back to me memories of Lough 
Suangorm and Slieve Docas?” 

The girl gave a start. “You are thinking of 
them too? I am so glad. It makes me so happy 
to know that I am not the only one here who knows 
all about Suangc^m.” Suddenly another thought 
seemed to come to her. She turned her eyes 


DAIREEN, 


103 


away from the island and glanced down the deck 
anxiously. 

“No,” said Mr. Harwood very gently indeed; 
“you are not alone in your memories of the love- 
liest spot of the world.” 

Mrs. Crawford thought it well to interpose. “ My 
dear Daireen, you must be careful not to take a 
chill now after all the unusual exercise you have had 
during the day. Dofrt you think you had better 
go below?” 

“Yes, I had much better,” said the girl quickly 
and in a startled tone; and she had actually gone 
to the door of the companion before she recollected 
that she had not said good-night either to Glaston 
or Harwood. She turned back and redeemed her 
negligence, and then went down with her good 
guardian. 

“Poor child,” thought Mr. Glaston, “she fears 
that I am hurt by her disregard of my advice about 
going ashore with those people. Poor child! perhaps 
I was hard upon her! ” 

“ Poor little thing, ” thought Mr. Harwood. “ She 
begins to understand.” 

“ It would never do to let that sort of thing go 
on, ” thought Mrs. Crawford, as she saw that Daireen 
got a cup of tea before retiring. Mrs. Crawford 
fully appreciated Mr. Harwood’s cleverness in reading 
the girl’s thought and so quickly adapting his speech 
to the requirements of the moment; but she felt her 
own superiority of cleverness. 

Each of the three was a careful and experienced 
observer, but there are certain conditional influences 
to be taken into account in arriving at a correct 
conclusion as to the motives of speech or action of 
every human subject under observation; and the 
reason that these careful analysts of motives were 
so utterly astray in tracing to its source the remiss- 
ness of Miss Gerald, was probably because none of 


104 


DAIREEN. 


the three was aware of the existence of an important 
factor necessary for the solution of the interesting 
problem they had worked out so airily; this factor 
being the sudden appearance of Standish Mac- 
namara beside the girl in the morning, and her 
consequent reflections upon the circumstance in the 
evening. 

But as she sat alone in her cabin, seeing through 
the port the effect of the silver moonlight upon the 
ridge of the hill behind which the moon itself had 
now sunk, she was wondering, as she had often 
wondered during the day, if indeed it was Standish 
whom she had seen and whose voice she had heard. 
All had been so sudden — so impossible, she thought, 
that the sight of him and the hearing of his voice 
seemed to her but as the memories of a dream of 
her home. 

But now that she was alone and capable of reflect- 
ing upon the matter, she felt that she had not been 
deceived. By some means the young man to whom 
she had written her last letter in Ireland was aboard 
the steamer. It was very wonderful to the girl to 
reflect upon this; but then she thought if he was 
aboard, why should she not be able to find him and 
ask him all about himself? 


CHAPTER xm 


Providence 

Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt 
This mad young man . . . 

His very madness, like some ore 
Among a mineral of metals base. 

Shows itself pure. 

Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
To what I shall imfold. 

It is common for the younger sort 
To lack discretion. 

Queen. . . . Whereon do you look? 

Hamlet, On him, on him ! look you, how pale he glares. 

... It is not madness 
That I have uttered: bring me to the test. — Hamlet. 

The question which suggested itself to Daireen as 
to the possibility of seeing Standish aboard the 
steamer, was not the only one that occupied her 
thoughts. How had he come aboard, and why had 
he come aboard, were further questions whose 
solution puzzled her. She recollected how he had 
told her on that last day she had seen him, while 
they walked in the garden after leaving The Mac- 
namara in that side room with the excellent specimen 
of ancient furniture ranged with glass vessels, that 
he was heartily tired of living among the ruins of 
the castle, and that he had made up his mind to go 
out into the world of work. She had then begged 


io6 


DAIREEN. 


of him to take no action of so much importance 
until her father should have returned to give him 
the advice he needed; and in that brief postscript 
which she had added to the farewell letter given 
into the care of the bard O’Brian, she had expressed 
her regret that this counsel of hers had been rendered 
impracticable. W as it possible, however, that Standish 
placed so much confidence in the likelihood of 
valuable advice being given to him by her father 
that he had resolved to go out to the Cape and 
speak with him on the subject face to face, she 
thought; but it struck her that there would be 
something like an inconsistency in the young man’s 
travelling six thousand miles to take an opinion as 
to the propriety of his leaving his home. 

What was she to do ? She felt that she must see 
Standish and have from his own lips an explanation 
of how he had come aboard the ship; but in that 
sentence he had spoken to her he had entreated of 
her to keep silence, so that she dared not seek for him 
under the guidance of Mrs. Crawford or any of her 
friends aboard the vessel. It would be necessary 
for her to find him alone, and she knew that this 
would be a difficult thing to do, situated as she was. 
But let the worst come, she reflected that it could 
only result in the true position of Standish being 
known. This was really all that the girl believed 
could possibly be the result if a secret interview 
between herself and a sailor aboard the steamer 
should be discovered ; and, thinking of the worst 
consequences so lightly, made her all the more 
anxious to hasten on such an interview if she could 
contrive it 

She seated herself upon her little sofa and tried to 
think by what means she could meet with Standish, and 
yet fulfil his entreaty for secrecy. Her imagination, 
so far as inventing plans was concerned, did not seem 
to be inexhaustible. After half-an-hour’s pondering 


DAIREEN. 


107 


over the matter, no more subtle device was suggested 
to her than going on deck and walking alone towards 
the fore-part of the ship between the deck-house and 
the bulwarks, where it might possibly chance that 
Standish would be found. This was her plan, and 
she did not presume to think to herself that its 
intricacy was the chief element of its possible success. 
Had she been aware of the fact that Standish was 
at that instant standing in the shadow of that deck- 
house looking anxiously astern in the hope of catching 
a glimpse of her — had she known that since the 
steamer had left the English port he had every 
evening stood with the same object in the same 
place, she would have been more hopeful of her 
simple plan succeeding. 

At any rate she stole out of her cabin and went 
up the companion and out upon the deck, with all 
the caution that a novice in the art of dissembling 
could bring to her aid. 

The night was full of softness — softness of gray 
reflected light from the waters that were rippling 
along before the vessel — softness of air that seemed 
saturated with the balm of odorous trees growing 
upon the slopes of those Fortunate Islands. The 
deck was deserted by passengers; only Major 
Crawford, the doctor, and the special correspondent 
were sitting in a group in their cane chairs, smoking 
their cheroots and discussing some action of a certain 
colonel that had not yet been fully explained, though 
it had taken place fifteen years previously. The 
group could not see her, she knew; but even if 
they had espied her and demanded an explanation, 
she felt that she had progressed sufficiently far in 
the crooked ways of deception to be able to lull 
their suspicions by her answers. She could tell 
them that she had a headache, or put them off with 
some equally artful excuse. 

She walked gently along until she was at the 


108 DAIREEN. 

rear of the deck-house where the stock of the mainmast 
was standing with all its gear. She looked down 
the dark tunnel passage between the side of the 
house and the bulwarks, but she felt her courage 
fail her: she dared do all that might become a 
woman, but the gloom of that covered place, and 
the consciousness that beyond it lay the mysterious 
fore-cabin space, caused her to pause. What was 
she to do? 

Suddenly there came the sound of a low voice 
at her ear. 

"Daireen, Daireen, why did you come here?” 
She started and looked around trembling, for it 
was the voice of Standish, though she could not 
see the form of the speaker. It was some moments 
before she found that he was under the broad rail 
leading to the ship’s bridge. 

“Then it is you, Standish, indeed?” she said. 
“ How on earth did you come aboard ? — Why have 
you come? — Are you really a sailor? — Where is 
your father? — Does he know? — Why don’t you 
shake hands with me, Standish?” 

These few questions she put to him in a breath, 
looking between the steps of the rail. 

“ Daireen, hush, for heaven’s sake ! ” he said 
anxiously. “You don’t know what you are doing 
in coming to speak with me here — I am only a 
sailor, and if you were seen near me it would be 
terrible. Do go back to your cabin and leave me 
to my wretchedness.” 

“I shall not go back,” she said resolutely. “I 
am your friend, Standish, and why should I not speak 
to you for an hour if I wish? You are not the 
quartermaster at the wheel. What a start you 
gave me this morning! Why did you not tell me 
you were coming in this steamer?” 

“ I did not leave Suangorm until the next morning 
after I heard you had gone,” he answered in a 


DAIREEN. 


109 


whisper. “I should have died — I should indeed, 
Daireen, if I had remained at home while you were 
gone away without anyone to take care of you.” 

“ Oh, Standish, Standish, what will your father 
say? — What will he think? ” 

“I don^t care,” said Standish. “I told him on 
that day when we returned from Suanmara that I 
would go away. I was a fool that I did not make 
up my mind long ago. It was, indeed, only when 
you left that I carried out my resolution. I learned 
what ship you were going in ; I had as much money 
as brought me to England — I had heard of people 
working their passage abroad; so I found out the 
captain of the steamer, and telling him all about 
myself that I could — not of course breathing your 
name, Daireen — I begged him to allow me to work 
my way as a sailor, and he agreed to give me the 
passage. He wanted me to become a waiter in the 
cabin, but I couldn’t do that; I didn’t mind facing 
all the hardships that might come, so long as I 
was near you — and — able to get your father’s advice. 
Now do go back, Daireen.” 

“No one will see us, ” said the girl, after a pause, 
in which she reflected on the story he had told her. 
“ But all is so strange, Standish, ” she continued — 
“ all is so unlike anything I ever imagined possible. 
Oh, Standish, it is too dreadful to think of your 
being a sailor — ^just a sailor — aboard the ship.” 

“ There’s nothing so very bad in it, ” he replied. 
“I can work, thank God; and I mean to work. The 
thought of being near you — that is, near the time 
when I can get the advice I want from your father 
— makes all my labour seem light. ” 

“ But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, let 
you become a passenger, ” said the girl suddenly. 
“Do let me ask him, Standish. It is so-so hard 
for you to have to work as a sailor.” 

“ It is no harder than I expected it would be, ” 


no 


DAIREEN. 


he said; *1 am not afraid to work hard; and I feel 
that I am doing something — I feel it. I should be 
more wretched in the cabin. Now do not think of 
speaking to me for the rest of the voyage, Daireen ; 
only, do not forget that you have a friend aboard 
the ship — a friend who will be willing to die 
for you.” 

His voice was very tremulous, and she could see 
his tearful eyes glistening in the gray light as he 
put out one of his hands to her. She put her own 
hand into it and felt his strong earnest grasp as he 
whispered, “ God bless you, Daireen! God bless you!” 

“Make it six bells, quartermaster,” came the 
voice of the officer on watch from the bridge. In 
fear and trembling Daireen waited until the man 
came aft and gave the six strokes upon the ship’s 
bell that hung quite near where she was standing 
— Standish thinking it prudent to remain close in the 
shade of the rail. The quartermaster saw her, but 
did not, of course, conceive it to be within the range 
of his duties to give any thought to the circumstance 
of a passenger being on deck at that hour. When 
the girl turned round after the bell had been struck, 
she found that Standish had disappeared. All she 
could do was to hasten back to her cabin with as 
much caution as it was possible for her to preserve, 
for she could still hear the hoarse tones of the 
major’s voice coming from the centre of the group 
far astern, who were regaled with a very pointed 
chronicle of a certain station in the empire of 
Hindustan. 

Daireen reached her cabin and sat once more 
upon her sofa, breathing a sigh of relief, for she had 
never in her life had such a call upon her courage 
as this to which she had just responded. 

Her face was flushed and hot, and her hands were 
trembling, so she threw open the pane of the cabin 
port-hole and let the soft breeze enter. It moved 


t>AIR£EN. 


Ill 


about her hair as she stood there, and she seemed 
to feel the fingers of a dear friend caressing her 
forehead. Then she sat down once more and thought 
over all that had happened since the morning when 
she had gone on deck to see that gray cloud-land 
brighten into the lovely green slope of Madeira. 
She thought of all that Standish had told her about 
himself, and she felt her heart overflowing, as were 
her eyes, with sympathy for him who had cast aside 
his old life and was endeavouring to enter upon the new. 

As she sat there in her dreaming mood all the 
days of the past came back to her with a clearness 
she had never before known. All the pleasant hours 
returned to her with even a more intense happiness 
than she had felt at first. For out of the distance 
of these Fortunate Islands the ghosts of the blessed 
departed hours came and moved before her, looking 
into her face with their own sweet pale faces; thus 
she passed from a waking dream into a dream of 
sleep as she lay upon her sofa, and the ghost 
shapes continued to float before her. The fatigue of 
the day, the darkness of the cabin, and the mono- 
tonous washing of the ripples against the side of the 
ship had brought on her sleep before she had got 
into her berth. 

With a sudden start she awoke and sprang to 
her feet in instantaneous consciousness, for the mono- 
tony of the washing waves was broken by a sound 
that was strange and startling to her ears— the sound 
of something hard tapping at irregular intervals upon 
the side of the ship just at her ear. 

She ran over to the cabin port and looked out 
fearfully — looked out and gave a cry of terror, for 
beneath her — out from those gray waters there 
glanced up to her in speechless agony the white 
fa-ce of a man — she saw it but for a moment, then 
it seemed to be swept away from her and swallowed 
up in the darkness of the deep waters. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


. , . Rashly, 

And praised be rashness for it. ... 

. . . Up from my cabin, 
My sea-gown scarfd about me, in the dark 
Groped I to find out them . . . making so bold, 
My fears forgetting manners. 


Give me leave : here lies the water ; good : here stands the man ; 
good. 


Let us know 

Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well 

. . . and that should learn us 
There’s a divinity that shapes our ends 
Rough-hew them how we will. — Hamlet, 

A SINGLE cry of terror was all that Daireen uttered 
as she fell back upon her berth. An instant more 
and she was standing with white lips, and hands 
that were untrembling as the rigid hands of a dead 
person. She knew what was to be done as plainly 
as if she saw everything in a picture. She rushed 
into the saloon and mounted the companion to the 
deck. There sat the little group astern just as she 
had seen them an hour before, only that the doctor 
had fallen asleep under the influence of one of the 
less pointed of the major’s stories. 

“God bless my soul!” cried the major, as the 
girl clutched the back of his chair. 

“ Good heavens, Miss Gerald, what is the matter ? ” 
said Harwood, leaping to his feet. 

She pointed to the white wake of the ship. 


ZI2 


DAIREEN. 


“There— there/ — she whispered — “ aman — drown- 
ing — clinging to something — a wreck — I saw him ! ” 

“Dear me! dear me!” said the major, in a tone 
of relief, and with a breath of a smile. 

But the special correspondent had looked into 
the girl’s face. It was his business to understand 
the difference between dreaming and waking. He 
was by the side of the officer on watch in a moment. 
A few words were enough to startle the officer 
into acquiescence with the demands of the “special”. 
The unwonted sound of the engine-room telegraph 
was heard, its tinkle shaking the slumbers of the 
chief engineer as effectively as if it had been the 
thunder of an alarum peal. 

The stopping of the engine, the blowing off of 
the steam, and the arrival of the captain upon the 
deck were simultaneous occurrences. The officer’s 
reply to his chief as he hurried aft did not seem 
to be very satisfactory, judging from the manner 
in which it was received. 

But Harwood had left the officer to explain the 
stoppage of the vessel, and was now kneeling by 
the side of the chair, back upon which lay the 
unconscious form of Daireen, while the doctor was 
forcing some brandy — all that remained in the major’s 
tumbler — between her lips, and a young sailor — the 
one who had been at the rail in the morning — chafed 
her pallid hand. The major was scanning the 
expanse . of water by aid of his pilot glass, and the 
quartermaster who had been steering went to the 
line of the patent log to haul it in — his first duty 
at any time on the stopping of the vessel, to pre- 
vent the line — the strain being taken off it — fouling 
with the propeller. 

When the steamer is under weigh it is the work 
of two sailors to take in the eighty fathoms of 
log-line, otherwise, however, the line is of course 
quite slack; it was thus rather inexplicable to the 

8 


DAIREEN. 


II4 

quartermaster to find much more resistance to his 
first haul than if the vessel were going full speed 
ahead. 

“ The darned thing’s fouled already,” he murmured 
for his own satisfaction. He could not take in a 
fathom, so great was the resistance. 

“Hang it all, major,” said the captain, “isn’t this 
too bad? Bringing the ship to like this, and — ah, 
here they come! All the ship’s company will be 
aft in a minute.” 

“Rum, my boy, very rum,” muttered the sympa- 
thetic major. 

“What’s the matter, captain?” said one voice. 

“ Is there any danger? ” asked a tremulous second. 

“If it’s a collision or a leak, don’t keep it from 
us, sir,” came a stem contralto. For in various 
stages of toilet incompleteness the passengers were 
crowding out of the cabin. 

But before the “unhappy master” could utter a 
word of reply, the sailor had touched his cap and 
reported to the third mate: 

“Log-line fouled on wreck, sir.” 

“By gad!” shouted the major, who was twisting 
the log-line about, and peering into the water. “ By 
gad, the girl was right! The line has fouled on 
some wreck, and there is a body made fast to it” 

The captain gave just a single glance in the 
direction indicated. 

“ Stand by gig davits and lower away, ” he shouted 
to the watch who had of course come aft. 

The men ran to where the boat was hanging, 
and loosened the lines. 

“ Oh, Heaven preserve us ! they are taking to 
the boats! ” cried a female passenger. 

“Don’t be a fool, my good woman,” said Mrs. 
Crawford tartly. The major’s wife had come on 
deck in a most marvellous costume, and she was 
already holding a sal-volatile bottle to Daireen’s 


DAIREEN. 


”5 


nose, having made a number of enquiries of Mr. 
Harwood and the doctor. 

All the other passengers had crowded to the 
ship’s side and were watching the men in the boat 
cutting at something which had been reached at 
the end of the log-line. They could see the broken 
stump of a mast and the cross-trees, but nothing 
further. 

“ They have got it into the boat,” said the major, 
giving the result of his observation through the 
binocular. 

“For heaven’s sake, ladies, go below!” cried the 
captain. But no one moved. 

“ If you don’t want to see the ghastly corpse of 
a drowned man gnawed by fishes for weeks may 
be, you had better go down, ladies,” said the chief 
ofi&cer. Still no one stirred. 

The major, who was an observer of nature, smiled 
and winked sagaciously at the exasperated captain 
before he said: 

“Why should the ladies go down at all? it’s a 
pleasant night, and begad, sir, a group of night-caps 
like this isn’t to be got toget^ier more than once in 
a lifetime.” Before the gallant ofiicer had finished 
his sentence the deck was cleared of women; but, 
of course, the luxury of seeing a dead body lifted 
from the boat being too great to be missed, the 
starboard cabin ports had many faces opposite them. 

The doctor left Daireen to the care of Mrs. 
Crawford, saying that she would recover conscious- 
ness in a few minutes, and he hastened with a kaross 
to the top of the boiler, jvhere he had shouted to 
the men in the boat to cairy the body. 

The companion-rail having been lowered, it was 
an easy matter for the four men to take the body 
on deck and to lay it upon the tiger-skin before the 
doctor, who rubbed his hands — an expression which 
the seamen interpreted as meaning satisfaction. 


ii6 


DAIREEN. 


“ Gently, my men, raise his head — so — throw the 
light on his face. By George, he doesn’t seem to 
have suffered from the oysters; there’s hope for him 
yet.” 

And the compassionate surgeon began cutting the 
clothing from the limbs of the body. 

“ No, don’t take the pieces away, ” he said to one 
of the men; “let them remain here. Now dry his 
arms carefully, and we’ll try and get some air into 
his lungs, if they’re not already past work.” 

But before the doctor had commenced his opera- 
tions the ship’s gig had been hauled up once more 
to the davits, and the steamer was going ahead at 
slow speed. 

“ Keep her at slow until the dawn,” said the 
captain to the officer on watch. “ And let there be a 
good look-out; there may be others floating upon 
the wreck. Call me if the doctor brings the body 
to life.” 

The captain did not think it necessary to view 
the body that had been snatched from the deep. 
The captain was a compassionate man and full of 
tender feeling ; he was exceedingly glad that he had 
had it in his power to pick up that body even with 
the small probability there was of being able to 
restore life to its frozen blood; but he would have 
been much more grateful to Providence had it been 
so willed that it should have been picked up without 
the necessity of stopping the engines of the steamer 
for nearly a quarter of an hour. It was explained 
to him that Miss Gerald had been the first to see 
the face of the man upon the wreck, but he could 
scarcely understand how it was possible for her to 
have seen it from her cabin. He was also puzzled 
to know how it was that the log-line had not been 
carried away so soon as it was entangled in such 
a large mass of wreck when the steamer was going 
at full speed. He, however, thought it as well to 



“ Gently, my men, raise his head— so— throw the light on his 
face.” — Page ii6. 


p 

f . 








0 



I 




•4 



$ 


\ 


I 


« 


i 


4 



t 

W 









( 


I 


w 




^ - 





t 


4. 






4 


I 






* 


\ 


9 


I 




, *» 

’ # 


• I 


I 


I 





« 


I 


VJ 


DAIREEN. 


II7 

resume his broken slumbers without waiting to solve 
either of these puzzling questions. 

But the chief officer who was now on watch, when 
the deck was once more deserted — Daireen having 
been taken down to her cabin — made the attempt 
to account for both of these occurrences. He found 
that the girl’s cabin was not far astern of the com- 
panion-rail that had been lowered during the day, 
and he saw that, in the confusion of weighing anchor 
in the dimness, a large block with its gear which 
was used in the hauling of the vegetable baskets 
aboard, had been allowed to hang down the side 
of the ship between the steps of the rail ; and upon 
the hook of the block, almost touching the water, 
he found some broken cordage. He knew then that 
the hook had caught fast in the cordage of the wreck 
as the steamer went past, and the wreck had 
swung round until it was just opposite the girl’s 
cabin, when the cordage had given way ; not, 
however, until some of the motion of the ship had 
been communicated to the wreck so that there was 
no abrupt strain put on the log-line when it had 
become entangled. It was all plain to the chief 
officer, as no doubt it would have been to the 
captain had he waited to search out the matter. 

So soon as the body had been brought aboard the 
ship all the interest of the passengers seemed to 
subside, and the doctor was allowed to pursue his 
experiments of resuscitation without enquiry. The 
chief officer being engaged at his own business of 
working out the question of the endurance of the 
log-line, and keeping a careful look-out for any 
other portions of wreck, had almost forgotten that 
the doctor and two of the sailors were applying a 
series of restoratives to the body of the man who 
had been detached from the wreck. It was nearly 
two hours after he had come on watch that one of 
the sailors — the one who had been kneeling by the 


ii8 


DAIREEN. 


side of Daireen — came up to the chief officer present- 
ing Doctor Campion’s compliments with the informa- 
tion that the man was breathing. 

In accordance with the captain’s instructions the 
chief officer knocked at the cabin door and repeated 
the message. 

“Breathing is he ? ” said the captain rather sleepily. 
“Very good, Mr. Holden; I’m glad to hear it. 
Just call me again in case he should relapse. ” 

The captain had hitherto in alluding to the man, 
made use of the neuter pronoun, but now that breath 
was restored he acknowledged his right to a gender. 

“ Very good, sir, ” replied the officer, closing 
the door. 


CHAPTER XV. 


Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn’d, 

Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, 

Be thy intents wicked or charitable. 

Thou com’st in such a questionable shape. 

• •«...• 

What may this mean 
That thou, dead corse, again . . , 

Revisit’st thus . . . ? 

I hope your virtues 

Will bring him to his wonted way again. — Hamlet. 

It was the general opinion in the cabin that Miss 
Gerald — the young lady who was in such an exclusive 
set — had shown very doubtful taste in being the 
first to discover the man upon the wreck. Everyone 
had, of course, heard the particulars of the matter 
from the steward’s assistants, who had in turn been 
in communication with the watch on deck. At any 
rate, it was felt by the ladies that it showed exceed- 
ingly bad taste in Miss Gerald to take such steps 
as eventually led to the ladies appearing on deck in 
incomplete toilettes. There was, indeed, a very 
pronounced feeling against Miss Gerald; several 
representatives of the other sections of the cabin 
society declaring that they could not conscientiously 
admit Miss Gerald into their intimacy. That dreadful 
designing old woman, the major’s wife, might do as 
she pleased, they declared, and so might Mrs. Butler 
and her daughter, who were only the near relatives 


120 


DAIREEN. 


of some Colonial Governor, but such precedents 
should be by no means followed, the ladies of this 
section announced to each other. But as Daireen 
had never hitherto found it necessary to fall back 
upon any of the passengers outside her own set, the 
resolution of the others, even if it had come to her 
ears, would not have caused her any great despon- 
dency. 

The captain made some enquiries of the doctor 
in the morning, and learned that the rescued man 
was breathing, though still unconscious. Mr. Harwood 
showed even a greater anxiety to hear from Mrs. 
Crawford about Daireen, after the terrible night she 
had gone through, and he felt no doubt propor- 
tionately happy when he was told that she wa§ now 
sleeping, having passed some hours in feverish 
excitement. Daireen had described to Mrs. Crawford 
how she had seen the face looking up to her from 
the water, and Mr. Harwood, hearing this, and 
making a careful examination of the outside of the 
ship in the neighbourhood of Daireen’s cabin, came 
to the same conclusion as that at which the chief 
officer had arrived. 

Mrs. Crawford tried to make Mr. Glaston equally 
interested in her proUg^e but she was scarcely 
successful. 

“ How brave it was in the dear child, was it not, 
Mr. Glaston ? ” she asked. “Just imagineher glancing 
casually out of the port — thinking, it may be, of 
her father, who is perhaps dying at the Cape” — the 
good lady felt that this bit of poetical pathos might 
work wonders with Mr. Glaston — “and then,” she 
continued, “fancy her seeing that terrible, ghastly 
thing in the water beneath her! What must her 
feelings have been as she rushed on deck and gave 
the alarm that caused that poor wretch to be saved! 
Wonderful, is it not?” 

But Mr. Glaston’s face was quite devoid of expres- 


DAIREEN. 


121 


sion on hearing this powerful narrative. The 
introduction of the pathos even did not make him 
wince; and there was a considerable pause before 
he said the few words that he did. 

“ Poor child,” he murmured. “ Poor child. It was 
very melodramatic — terribly melodramatic; but she 
is still young, her taste is — ah — plastic. At least I 
hope so.” 

Mrs. Crawford began to feel that, after all, it was 
something to have gained this expression of hope 
from Mr. Glaston, though her warmth of feeling did 
undoubtedly receive a chill from his manner. She 
did not reflect that there is a certain etiquette to be 
observed in the saving of the bodies as well as the 
souls of people, and that the aesthetic element, in the 
opinion of some people, should enter largely into 
every scheme of salvation, corporeal as well as 
spiritual. 

The doctor was sitting with Major Crawford when 
the lady joined them a few minutes after her 
conversation with Mr. Glaston, and never had Mrs. 
Crawford fancied that her husband’s old friend 
could talk in such an affectionate way as he now 
did about the rescued man. She could almost bring 
herself to believe that she saw the tears of emotion 
in his eyes as he detailed the circumstances of the 
man’s resuscitation. The doctor felt personally 
obliged to him for his handsome behaviour in 
bearing such testimony to the skill of his resus- 
citator. 

When the lady spoke of the possibilities of a 
relapse, the doctor’s eyes glistened at first, but under 
the influence of maturer thought, he sighed and shook 
his head. No, he knew that there are limits to the 
generosity of even a half-strangled man — a relapse 
was too much to hope for; but the doctor felt at 
that instant that if this “case” should see its way 
to a relapse, and subsequently to submit to be 


122 


DAIREEN. 


restored, it would place itself under a lasting obliga- 
tion to its physician. 

Surely, thought Mrs. Crawford, when the doctor 
talks of the stranger with such enthusiasm he will 
go into raptures about Daireen; so she quietly al- 
luded to the girl’s achievement. But the doctor could 
see no reason for becoming ecstatic about Miss Ge- 
rald. Five minutes with the smelling-bottle had 
restored her to consciousness. 

“Quite a trifle — overstrung nerves, you know,” 
he said, as he lit another cheroot. 

“ But think of her bravery in keeping strong until 
she had told you all that she had seen ! ” said the 
lady. “I never heard of anything so brave! Just 
fancy her looking out of the port — thinking of her 
father perhaps” — the lady went on to the end of that 
pathetic sentence of hers, but it had no effect upon 
the doctor. 

“ True, very true! ” he muttered, looking at his 
watch. 

But the major was secretly convulsed for some 
moments after his wife had spoken her choice piece 
of pathos, and though he did not betray himself, 
she knew well all that was in his mind, and so 
turned away without a further word. So soon as she 
was out of hearing, the major exchanged confiden- 
tial chuckles with his old comrade. 

“He is not what you’d call a handsome man as 
he lies at present. Campion,” remarked Mr. Har- 
wood, strolling up later in the day. “ But you did 
well not to send him to the forecastle, I think; he 
has not been a sailor.” 

“I know it, my boy,” said the doctor. “He is 
not a handsome man, you say, and I agree with 
you that he is not seen to advantage just now ; but 
I made up my mind an hour after I saw him that 
he was not for the forecastle, or even the fore- 
cabin.” 


DAIREEN. 


*23 


, “ I dare say you are right,” said Harwood. “ Yes ; 
there is a something in his look that half drowning 
could not kill. That was the sort of thing you 
felt, eh?” 

“Nothing like it,” said the mild physician. “It 
was this,” he took out of his pocket an envelope 
from which 1^ extracted a document that he handed 
to Harwood. 

It was an order for four hundred pounds, payable 
by a certain bank in England, and granted by the 
Sydney branch of the Australasian Banking Company 
to one Mr. Oswin Markham. 

“Ah, I see; he is a gentleman,” said Harwood, 
returning the order. It had evidently suffered a 
sea-change, but it had been carefully dried by the 
doctor. 

“Yes, he is a gentleman,” said the doctor. “That 
is what I remarked when I found this in a flask 
in one of his pockets. Sharp thing to do, to keep 
a paper free from damp and yet to have it in a 
buoyant case. Devilish sharp thing!” 

“ And the man’s name is this — Oswin Markham ? ” 
said the major. 

“No doubt about it,” said the doctor. 

“None whatever; unless he stole the order from 
the rightful owner, and meant to get it cashed at 
his leisure,” remarked Harwood. 

“Then he must have stolen the shirt, the collar, 
and the socks of Oswin Markham,” snarled the 
doctor. “All these things of his are marked as 
plain as red silk can do it” 

“Any man who would steal an order for four 
hundred pounds would not hesitate about a few 
toilet necessaries.” 

“ Maybe you’ll suggest to the skipper the need to 
put him in irons as soon as he is sufficiently recovered 
to be conscious of an insult, ” cried the doctor in an 
acrid way that received a sympathetic chuckle from 


124 


DAIREEN. 


the major. “ Young man, you’ve got your brain too 
full of fancies — a devlish deal, sir; they do well 
enough retailed for the readers of the ‘Dominant 
Trumpeter,’ but sensible people don’t want to hear 
them.” 

“ Then I won’t force them upon you and Crawford, 
my dear Campion,” said Harwood, walking away, 
for he knew that upon some occasions the doctor 
should be conciliated, and in the matter of a patient 
every allowance should be made for his warmth of 
feeling. So long as one of his “cases” paid* his 
skill the compliment of surviving any danger, he spoke 
well of the patient ; but when one behaved so 
unhandsomely as to die, it was with the doctor 
De mortuis nil nisi malum^ Harwood knew this, 
and so he walked away. 

And now that he found himself — or rather made 
himself — alone, he thought over all the events of 
the previous eventful day; but somehow there did 
not seem to be any event worth remembering that 
was not associated with Daireen Gerald. He recol- 
lected how he had watched her when they had been 
together among the lovely gardens of the island 
slope. As she turned her eyes seaward with an 
earnest, sad, questioning gaze, he felt that he had 
never seen a picture so full of beauty. 

The words he had spoken to her, telling her that 
the day he had spent on the island was the happiest 
of his life, were true indeed; he had never felt so 
happy; and now as he reflected upon his after-words 
his conscience smote him for having pretended to 
her that he was thinking of the place where he 
knew her thoughts had carried her: he had seen 
from her face that she was dreaming about her Irish 
home, and he had made her feel that the recol- 
lection of the lough and the mountains was upon 
his mind also. He felt now how coarse had been 
his deception. 


DAIREEN. 


125 


He then recalled the final scene of the night, 
when as he was trying to pursue his own course 
of thought, and at the same time pretend to be 
listening to the major’s thrice-told tale of a certain 
colonel’s conduct at the Arradambad station, the 
girl had appeared before them like a vision. Yes, 
it was altogether a remarkable day even for a 
special correspondent. The reflection upon its events 
made him very thoughtful during the entire of this 
afternoon. Nor was he at all disturbed by the 
information Doctor Campion brought to him just 
when he was going for his usual smoke upon the 
bridge, while the shore of Palma was yet in view 
not far astern. 

“Good fellow he is,” murmured the doctor. 
“ Capital fellow ! opened his eyes just now when I 
was in his cabin — recovered consciousness in a 
moment” 

“Ah, in a moment?” said Harwood dubiously. 
“I thought it always needed the existence of some 
link of consciousness between the past and the 
present to bring about a restoration like this— some 
familiar sight — some well-known sound.” 

“And, by George, you are right, my boy, this 
time, though you are a ‘special,’” said the doctor 
grinning. “Yes, I was standing by the fellow’s bunk 
when I heard Crawford call for another bottle of 
soda. Robinson got it for him, and bang went 
the cork of course; a faint smile stole over the 
haggard features, my boy, the glassy eyes opened 
full of intelligence and with a mine of pleasant 
recollections. That familiar sound of the popping 
of the cork acted as the link you talk of. He saw 
all in a moment, and tried to put out his hand to 
me. ‘My boy,’ I said, ‘you’ve behaved most hand- 
somely, and I’ll get you a glass of brandy out 
of another bottle, but don’t you try to speak for 
another day.’ And I got him a glass from Crawford, 


126 


PAIREEN. 


though, by George, sir, Crawford grudged it; he 
didn’t see the sentiment of the thing, sir, and when 
I tried to explain it, he said I was welcome to the 
cork. ” 

“ Capital tale for an advertisement of the brandy,” 
said Harwood. 

Then the doctor with many smiles hastened to 
spread abroad the story of the considerate behaviour 
of his patient, and Harwood was left to continue 
his twilight meditations alone once more. He was 
sitting in his deck-chair on the ship’s bridge, and 
he could but dimly hear the laughter and the chat 
of the passengers far astern. He did not remain 
for long in this dreamy mood of his, for Mrs. 
Crawford and Daireen Gerald were seen coming up 
the rail, and he hastened to meet them. The girl 
was very pale but smiling, and in the soft twilight 
she seemed very lovely. 

“I am so glad to see you,” he said, as he settled 
a chair for her. “I feared a great many things 
when you did not appear to-day.” 

“We must not talk too much,” said Mrs. Crawford, 
who had not expected to find Mr. Harwood alone 
in this place. “I brought Miss Gerald up here in 
order that she might not be subjected to the gaze 
of those colonists on the deck ; a little quiet is what 
she needs to restore her completely from her shock.” 

“ It was very foolish, I am afraid you think — 
very foolish of me to behave as I did, ” said Daireen 
with a faint little smile. “But I had been asleep 
in my cabin and I — I was not so strong as I should 
have been. The next time I hope I shall not be so 
very stupid.” 

“My dear Miss Gerald,” said Harwood, “you 
behaved as a heroine. There is no woman aboard 
the ship — Mrs. Crawford of course excepted — who 
would have had courage to do what you did.” 

“And he — ’’said the girl somewhat eagerly — 


DAIREEN. 


127 


“he — is he really safe?— has he recovered? Tell me 
all, Mr. Harwood.” 

“ No, no ! ” cried Mrs. Crawford, interposing. 
“You must not speak a word about him. Do you 
want to be thrown into a fresh state of excitement, 
my dear, now that you are getting on so nicely ? ” 

“But I am more excited remaining as I am in 
doubt about that poor man. Was he a sailor, Mr. 
Harwood? ” 

“It appears not,” said Harwood. “The doctor, 
however, is returning; he will tell all that is safe 
to be told.” 

“ I really must protest, ” said Mrs. Crawford. 

“Well, I will be a good girl and not ask for 
any information whatever,” said Daireen. 

But she was not destined to remain in complete 
ignorance on the subject which might reasonably 
be expected to interest her, for the doctor on seeing 
her hastened up, and, of course, Mrs. Crawford’s 
protest was weak against his judgment. 

“ My dear young lady, ” he cried, shaking Daireen 
warmly by the hand. “You are anxious to know 
the sequel of the romance of last night, I am sure ? ” 

“No, no. Doctor Campion,” said Daireen almost 
mischievously; “ Mrs. Crawford says I must hear 
nothing, and think about nothing, all this evening. 
Did you not say so, Mrs. Crawford?” 

“ My dear child, Doctor Campion is supposed to 
know much better than myself how you should be 
treated in your present nervous condition. If he 
chooses to talk to you for an hour or two hours 
about drowning wretches, he may do so on his 
own responsibility.” 

“ Drowning wretches ! ” said the doctor. “ My 
dear madam, you have not been told all, or you 
would not talk in this way. He is no drowning 
wretch, but a gentleman ; look at this — ah, I forgot 
ifs not light enough for you to see the document. 


128 


DAIREEN. 


but Harwood there will tell you all that it contains.” 

“ And what does that wonderful document contain, 
Mr. Harwood?” asked Mrs. Crawford. “Tell us, 
please, and we shall drop the subject.” 

“ That document, ” said Harwood, with affected so- 
lemnity; “it is a guarantee of the respectability of 
the possessor; it is a bank order for four hundred 
pounds, payable to one Oswin Markham, and it was, 
I understand, found upon the person of the man 
who has just been resuscitated through the skill of 
our good friend Doctor Campion.” 

“ Now you will not call him a poor wretch, I am 
sure,” said the doctor. “He has now fully recov- 
ered consciousness, and, you see, he is a gentleman. ” 

“You see that, no doubt, Mrs. Crawford,” said 
Harwood in a tone that made the good physician 
long to have him for a few weeks on the sick list — 
the way the doctor had of paying off old scores. 

“ Don’t be sarcastic, Mr. Harwood,” said Daireen. 
Then she added, “What did you say the name 
was? — Oswin Markham? I like it — I like it very 
much. ” 

“ Hush,” said Mrs. Crawford. “ Here is Mr. Glas- 
ton.” And it was indeed Mr. Glaston who ascended 
the rail with a languor of motion in keeping with 
the hour of twilight. With a few muttered words 
the doctor walked away. 

“ I hear,” said Mr. Glaston, after he had shaken 
hands with Daireen, — “I hear that there was some 
wreck or other picked up last night with a man 
clinging to it — a dreadfully vulgar fellow he must 
be to carry about with him a lot of money — a man 
with a name like what one would find attached to 
the hero of an East-end melodrama.” 

There was a rather lengthened silence in that little 
group before Harwood spoke. 

“Yes,” he said; “it struck me that it showed 
very questionable taste in the man to go about 


DAIREEN. 


129 


flaunting- his money in the face of everyone he met. 
As for his name — well, perhaps we had better not 
say anything about his name. You recollect what 
Tennyson makes Sir Tristram say to his Isolt — 
I don’t mean you, Glaston, I know you only read 
the pre-Raphaelites — 

Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.” 

But no one seemed to remember the quotation, 
or, at any rate, to see the happiness of its present 
application. 


CHAPTER XVL 


It beckons you to go away with it, 
As if it some impartment did desire 
To you alone. 


. . , Weigh what loss 
If with too credent ear you list his songs 
Or lose your heart . . . 

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it. — Hamlet, 


It could hardly be expected that there should be 
in the mind of Daireen Gerald a total absence 
of interest in the man who by her aid had been 
rescued from the deep. To be sure, her friend 
Mrs. Crawford had given her to understand that 
people of taste might pronounce the episode melo- 
dramatic, and as this word sounded very terrible to 
Daireen, as, indeed, it did to Mrs. Crawford herself, 
whose apprehension of its meaning was about as vague 
as the girl’s, she never betrayed the anxiety she felt 
for the recovery of this man, who was, she thought, 
equally accountable for the dubious taste displayed 
in the circumstances of his rescue. She began to 
feel, as Mr. Glaston in his delicacy carefully refrained 
from alluding to this night of terror, and as Mrs. 
Crawford assumed a solemn expression of counte- 
nance upon the least reference to the girl’s partici- 
pation in the recovery of the man with the melo- 
dramatic name, that there was a certain bond of 
sympathy between herself and this Oswin Markham ; 


DAIREEN. 


I31 

and now and again when she found the doctor alone, 
she ventured to make some enquiries regarding him. 
In the course of a few days she learned a erood 
deal. 

“ He is behaving handsomely — most handsomely, 
my dear,” said the doctor, one afternoon about a 
week after the occurrence. “ He eats everything that 
is given to him and drinks in a like proportion.” 
The girl felt that this was truly noble on the part 
of the man, but it was scarcely the exact type of 
information she would have liked. 

“And he — is he able to speak yet?” she asked. 

“ Speak ? yes, to be sure. He asked me how he 
came to be picked up, and I told him,” continued 
the doctor, with a smile of gallantry of which Daireen 
did not believe him capable, “ that he was seen by 
the most charming young lady in the world, — yes, 
yes, I told him that, though I ran a chance of 
retarding his recovery by doing so.” This was, of 
course, quite delightful to hear, but Daireen wanted 
to know even more about the stranger than the 
doctor^s speech had conveyed to her. 

“The poor fellow was a long time in the water, 
I suppose?” she said artfully, trying to find out all 
that the doctor had learned. 

“He was four days upon that piece of wreck,” 
said the doctor. 

The girl gave a start that seemed very like a 
shudder, as she repeated the words, “Four days.” 

“Yes; he was on his way home from Australia, 
where he had been living for some years, and 
the vessel he was in was commanded by some 
incompetent and drunken idiot who allowed it to 
be struck by a tornado of no extraordinary violence, 
and to founder in mid-ocean. As our friend was 
a passenger, he says, the crew did not think it 
necessary to invite him to have a seat in one of 
the boats, a fact that accounts for his being alive 


132 


DAIREEN. 


to-day, for both boats were swamped and every 
soul sent to the bottom in his view. He tells me 
he managed to lash a broken topmast to the stump 
of the mainmast that had gone by the board, and 
to cut the rigging so that he was left drifting when 
the hull went down. That's all the story, my dear, 
only we know what a hard time of it he must have 
had during the four days.” 

“A hard time — a hard time,” Daireen repeated 
musingly, and without a further word she turned 
away. 

Mr. Glaston, who had been pleased to take a 
merciful view of her recent action of so pronounced 
a type, found that his gracious attempts to re-form 
her plastic taste did not, during this evening, meet 
with that appreciation of which they were undoubtedly 
deserving. Had he been aware that all the time 
his eloquent speech was flowing on the subject of 
the consciousness of hues — a theme attractive on 
account of its delicacy — the girl had before her eyes 
only a vision of heavy blue skies overhanging dark 
green seas terrible in loneliness — the monotony of 
endless waves broken only by the appearance in 
the centre of the waste of a broken mast and a 
ghastly face and clinging lean hands upon it, he 
would probably have withdrawn the concession he 
had made to Mrs. Crawford regarding the taste of 
her proUg^e, 

And indeed, Daireen was not during any of these 
days thinking about much besides this Oswin 
Markham, though she never mentioned his name 
even to the doctor. At nights when she would 
look out over the flashing phosphorescent waters, 
she would evermore seem to see that white face 
looking up at her; but now she neither started nor 
shuddered as she was used to do for a few nights 
after she had seen the real face there. It seemed 
to her now as a face that she knew — the face of 


DAIREEN. 


133 


a friend looking into her face from the dim uncertain 
surface of the sea of a dream. 

One morning a few days after her most interesting 
chat with Doctor Campion, she got up even earlier 
than usual — before, in fact, the healthy pedestrian 
gentleman had completed his first mile, and went 
on deck. She had, however, just stepped out of the 
companion when she heard voices and a laugh or two 
coming from the stem. She glanced in the direction 
of the sounds and remained motionless at the cabin 
door. A group consisting of the major, the doctor, and 
the captain of the steamer were standing in the 
neighbourhood of the wheel ; but upon a deck-chair, 
amongst a heap of cushions, a stranger was lying 
back — a man with a thin brown face and large, 
somewhat sunken eyes, and a short brown beard 
and moustache ; he was holding a cigar in the fingers 
of his left hand that drooped over the arm of the 
chair — a long, white hand — and he was looking up 
to the face of the major, who was telling one of his 
usual stories with his accustomed power. None of 
the other passengers were on deck, with the excep- 
tion of the pedestrian, who came into view every 
few minutes as he reached the after part of the 
ship. 

She stood there at the door of the companion 
without any motion, looking at that haggard face 
of the stranger. She saw a faint smile light up his 
deep eyes and pass over his features as the major 
brought out the full piquancy of his little anecdote, 
which was certainly not virginihus puerisque. Then 
she turned and went down again to her cabin with- 
out seeing how a young sailor was standing gazing 
at her from the passage of the ship’s bridge. She 
sat down in her cabin and waited until the ringing 
of the second bell for breakfast. 

“You are getting dreadfully lazy, my dear,” said 
Mrs. Crawford, as she took her seat by the girl’s 


134 


DAIREEN. 


side. •Why were you not up as usual to get an 
appetite for breakfast?* Then without waiting for 
an answer, she whispered, “ Do you see the stranger 
at the other side of the table? That is our friend 
Mr. Oswin Markham; his name does not sound so 
queer when you come to know him. The doctor 
was right, Daireen: he is a gentleman.* 

“Then you have * 

“ Yes, I have made his acquaintance this morning 
alre ady. I hope Mr. Glaston may not think that it 
was my fault.” 

“Mr. Glaston?” said Daireen. 

“ Yes ; you know he is so sensitive in matters like 
this ; he might fancy that it would be better to leave 
this stranger by himself; but considering that he 
will be parting from the ship in a week, I don’t 
think I was wrong to let my husband present me. 
At any rate he is a gentleman — that is one satis- 
faction. ” 

Daireen felt that there was every reason to be 
glad that she was not placed in the unhappy position 
of having taken steps for the rescue of a person 
not accustomed to mix in good society. But she 
did not even once glance down towards the man 
whose standing had been by a competent judge 
pronounced satisfactory. She herself talked so little, 
however, that she could hear him speak in answer 
to the questions some good-natured people at the 
bottom of the table put to him, regarding the name 
of his ship and the circumstances of the catastrophe 
that had come upon it. She also heard the young 
lady who had the peculiar fancy for blue and pink 
beg of him to do her the favour of writing his name 
in her birthday book. 

During the hours that elasped before tiffin Daireen 
sat with a novel in her hand, and she knew that 
the stranger was on the ship’s bridge with Major 
Crawford. The major found his company exceedingly 


DAIREEN. 


135 


agreeable, for the old officer had unfortunately been 
prodigal of his stories through the first week of the 
voyage, and lately he had been reminded that he 
was repeating himself when he had begun a really 
choice anecdote. This Mr. Markham, however, had 
never been in India, so that the major found in him 
an appreciative audience, and for the satisfactory 
narration of a chronicle of Hindustan an appreciative 
audience is an important consideration. The major, 
however, appeared alone at tiffin, for Mr. Markham, 
he said, preferred lying in the sun on the bridge 
to eating salad in the cabin. The young lady with 
the birthday book seemed a little disappointed, for 
she had just taken the bold step of adding to her 
personal decorations a large artificial moss-rose with 
glass beads sewed all about it in marvellous similitude 
to early dew, and it would not bear being trifled 
with in the matter of detaching from her dress. 

Whether or not Mrs. Crawford had conferred with 
Mr. Glaston on the subject of the isolation of Mr. 
Markham, Daireen, on coming to sit down to the 
dinner-table, found Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Markham 
standing in the saloon just at the entrance to her 
cabin. She could feel herself flushing as she looked 
up to the man’s haggard face while Mrs. Crawford 
pronounced their names, and she knew that the hand 
she put in his thin fingers was trembling. Neither 
spoke a single word : they only looked at each other. 
Then the doctor came forward with some remark 
that Daireen did not seem to hear, and soon the 
table was surrounded with the passengers. 

“He says he feels nearly as strong as he ever 
did,” whispered Mrs. Crawford to the girl as they 
sat down together. “ He will be able to leave us at 
St. Helena next week without doubt.” 

On the same evening Daireen was sitting in her 
usual place far astern. The sun had set some time, 
and the latitude being only a few degrees south of 


136 


DAIREEN. 


the equator, the darkness had already almost come 
down upon the waters. It was dimmer than twilight, 
but not the solid darkness of a tropical night. The 
groups of passengers had all dispersed or gone 
forward, and the only sounds were the whisperings 
of the water in the wake of the steamer, and the 
splashing of the flying fish. Suddenly from the 
cabin there came the music of the piano, and a low 
voice singing to its accompaniment — so faint it came 
that Daireen knew no one on deck except herself 
could hear the voice, for she was sitting just beside 
the open fanlight of the saloon; but she heard every 
word that was sung: — 

t. 

When the vesper gold has waned; 

When the passion -hues of eve 
Breathe themselves away and leave 
Blue the heaven their crimson stained, 

But one hour the world doth grieve, 

For the shadowy skies receive 
Stars so gracious-sweet that they 
Make night more beloved than day. 

n. 

From my life the light has waned: 

Every golden gleam that shone 
Through the dimness now has gone. 

Of all joys has one remained? 

Stays one gladness I have known? 

Day is past; I stand, alone. 

Here beneath these darkened skies. 

Asking — “Doth a star arise?” 

It ended so faintly that Daireen Gerald could not 
tell when the last note had come. She felt that 
she was in a dream and the sounds she had heard 
were but a part of her dream — sounds? were these 
sounds, or merely the effect of breathing the lovely 
shadowy light that swathed the waters? The sounds 


DAIREEN. 


137 


seemed to her the twilight expressed in music. 

Then in the silence she heard a voice speaking 
her name. She turned and saw Oswin Markham 
standing beside her. 

“Miss Gerald,” he said, “I owe my life to you. 
I thank you for it.” 

He could hardly have expressed himself more 
simply if he had been thanking her for passing him 
a fig at dinner, and yet his words thrilled her. 

“No, no; do not say that,” she said, in a startled 
voice. “ I did nothing — nothing that anyone else 
might not have done. Oh, do not talk of it, please.” 

“ I will not, ” he said slowly, after a pause. “ I 
will never talk of it again. I was a fool to speak 
of it to you. I know now that you understand — 
that there is no need for me to open my lips to 
you.” 

“I do indeed,” she said, turning her eyes upon 
his face. “ I do understand. ” She put out her hand, 
and he took it in his own— not fervently, not with 
the least expression of emotion, his fingers closed 
over it. A long time passed before she saw his 
face in front of her own, and felt his eyes looking 
into her eyes as his words came in a whisper, 
“ Child — child, there is a bond between us — a bond 
whose token is silence.” 

She kept her eyes fixed upon his as he spoke, 
and long after his words had come. She knew he 
had spoken the truth: there was a bond between 
them. She understood it. 

She saw the gaunt face with its large eyes close 
to her own; her own eyes filled with tears, and 
then came the first token of their bond — silence. 
She felt his grasp unloosed, she heard him moving 
away, and she knew that she was alone in the 
silence. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Give him heedful note; 

For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, 

And after we will both our judgments join. 

Thou wouldst not think how ill all’s here about my heart: but 
it is no matter. 


You must needs have heard, how I am pimish’d 
With sore distraction. What I have done 
I here proclaim was madness. — Hamlet. 

It was very generally thought that it was a 
fortunate circumstance for Mr. Oswin Markham that 
there chanced to be in the fore-cabin of the steamer 
an enterprising American speculator who was taking 
out some hundred dozens of ready-made garments 
for disposal to the diamond miners, and an equal 
quantity of less durable clothing, in which he had 
been induced to invest some money with a view to 
the ultimate adoption of clothing by the Kafir nation. 
He explained how he had secured the services of 
a hard-working missionary whom he had sent as 
agent in advance to endeavour to convince the 
natives that if they ever wished to gain a footing 
among great nations, the auxiliary of clothing towards 
the effecting of their object was worth taking into 
consideration. When the market for these garments 
would thus be created, the speculator hoped to 
arrive on the scene and make a tolerable sum of 

138 


DAIREEN. 


139 


money. In rear of his missionary, he had scoured 
most of the islands of the Pacific with very satis- 
factory results ; and he said he felt, that if he could 
but prevail upon his missionary in advance to keep 
steady, a large work of evangelization could be done 
in South Africa. 

By the aid of this enterprising person, Mr. Markham 
was able to clothe himself without borrowing from 
any of the passengers. But about the payment for 
his purchases there seemed likely to be some diffi- 
culty. The bank order for four hundred pounds 
was once again in the possession of Mr. Markham, 
but it was payable in England, and how then 
could he effect the transfer of the few pounds he 
owed the American speculator, when he was to 
leave the vessel at St. Helena? There was no 
agency of the bank at this island, though there was 
one at the Cape, and thus the question of payment 
became somewhat difficult to solve. 

“Do you want to leave the craft at St. Helena, 
mister? ” asked the American, stroking his chin 
thoughtfully. 

“I do,” said Mr. Markham. “I must leave at 
the island and take the first ship to England.” 

“It’s the awkwardest place on God’s footstool, 
this St. Helena, isn’t it? ” said the American. 

“I don’t see that it is; why do you say so?” 

“ Only that I don’t see why you want so partickler 
to land thar, mister. Maybe you’ll change yer 
mind, eh ? ” 

“ I have said that I must part from this ship there,” 
exclaimed Mr. Markham almost impatiently. “I must 
get this order reduced to money somehow.” 

“Wal, I reckon that’s about the point, mister,” 
said the speculator. “ But you see if you want to 
fly it as you say, you’ll not breeze about that it’s 
needful for you to cut the craft before you come 
to the Cape. Td half a mind to try and trade 


140 


DAIKEEN. 


with you for that bit of paper ten minutes ago, but 
I reckon that’s not what’s the matter with me now. 
No, sir\ if you want to get rid of that paper with- 
out much trouble, just you give out that you don’t 
care if you do go on to the Cape ; maybe a nibble 
will come from that” 

“ I don’t know what you mean, my good fellow, ” 
said Markham; “but I can only repeat that I will 
not go on to the Cape. I shall get the money 
somehow and pay you before I leave, for surely 
the order is as good as money to anyone living in the 
midst of civilization. I don’t suppose a savage would 
understand it, but I can’t see what objection anyone 
in business could make to receiving it at its full value.” 

The American screwed up his mouth in a peculiar 
fashion, and smiled in a still more peculiar fashion. 
He rather fancied he had a small piece of tobacco 
in his waistcoat pocket, nor did the result of a 
search show that he was mistaken; he extracted the 
succulent morsel and put it into his mouth. Then 
he winked at Mr. Markham, put his hands in his 
pockets, and walked slowly away without a word. 

Markham looked after him with a puzzled expres- 
sion. He did not know what the man meant to 
convey by his nods and his becks and his wreathed 
smiles. But just at this moment Mr. Harwood came 
up; he had of course previously made the acquaint- 
ance of Markham. 

“ I suppose we shall soon be losing you ? ” said 
Harwood, offering him a cigar. “You said, I think, 
that you would be leaving us at St. Helena?” 

“Yes, I leave at St. Helena, and we shall be there 
in a few days. You see, I am now nearly as strong 
as ever, thanks to Campion, and it is important for 
me to get to England at once.” 

“No doubt,” said Harwood; “your relatives will 
be very anxious if they hear of the loss of the 
vessel you were in.” 


DAIREEN. 


I41 

Markham gave a little laugh, as he said, “ I have 
no relatives; and as for friends — well, I suppose I 
shall have a number now.” 

“ Now? ” 

“Yes; the fact is I was on my way home from 
Australia to take up a certain property which my 
father left to me in England. He died six months 
ago, and the solicitors for the estate sent me out 
a considerable sum of money in case I should need 
it in Australia — this order for four hundred pounds 
is what remains of it.” 

“ I can now easily understand your desire to be 
at home and settled down,” said Harwood. 

“ I don^t mean to settle down, ” replied Markham. 
“There are a good many places to be seen in the 
world, small as it is.” 

“ A man who has knocked about in the Colonies 
is generally glad to settle down at home, ” remarked 
Harwood. 

“No doubt that is the rule, but I fear I am all 
awry so far as rules are concerned. I haven’t 
allowed my life to be subject to many rules, hitherto. 
Would to God I had! It is not a pleasant recol- 
lection for a son to go through life with, Harwood, 
that his father has died without becoming reconciled 
to him — especially when he knows that his father 
has died leaving him a couple of thousands a year.” 

“ And you ” 

“ I am such a son,” said Markham, turning round 
suddenly. “ I did all that I could to make my 
father’s life miserable till — a climax came, and I found 
myself in Australia three years ago with an allow- 
ance sufficient to keep me from ever being in want. 
But I forget. I’m not a modem Ancient Mariner, 
wandering about boring people with my sad 
story. ” 

“ No,” said Harwood, “ you are not, I should hope. 
Nor am I so pressed for time just now as the wed- 


142 


DAIREEN. 


ding guest. You did not. go in for a sheep-run in 
Australia ? ” 

“Nothing of the sort,” laughed the other. “The 
only thing I went in for was getting through my 
allowance, until that letter came that sobered me — 
that letter telling me that my father was dead, and 
that every penny he had possessed was mine. Har- 
wood, you have heard of people’s hair turning white 
in a few hours, but you have not often heard of 
natures changing from black to white in a short 
space; believe me it was so with me. The idea that 
theologians used to have long ago, about souls pass- 
ing from earth to heaven in a moment might well 
be believed by me, knowing as I do how my soul 
was transformed by that letter. I cast my old life 
behind me, though I did not tell anyone about me 
what had happened. I left my companions and said 
to them that I was going up country. I did go up 
country, but I returned in a few days and got aboard 
the first ship that was sailing for England, and — 
here I am.” 

“ And you mean to renew your life of wandering 
when you reach England?” said Harwood, after a 
pause. 

“It is all that there is left for me,” said the man 
bitterly, though a change in his tone would have 
made his words seem very pitiful. “ I am not such 
a fool as to fancy that a man can sow tares and 
reap wheat. The spring of my life is over, and also 
the summer, the seed-time and the ripening ; shall the 
harvest be delayed then? No, I am not such a fool.” 

“ I cannot see that you might not rest at home, ” 
said Harwood. “Surely you have some associa- 
tions in England.” 

“Not one that is not wretched.” 

“But a man of good family with some money 
is always certain to make new associations for himself, 
no matter what his life has been. Marriage, for 


DAIREEN. 


143 


instance ; it is, I think, an exceedingly sure way of 
squaring a fellow up in life.” 

“A very sure way indeed,” laughed Markham. 
“ Never mind ; in another week I shall be away from 
this society which has already become so pleasant 
to me. Perhaps I shall knock up against you in 
some of the strange places of the earth, Harwood.” 

“ I heartily hope so,” said the other. “But I still 
cannot see why you should not come on with us 
to the Cape. The voyage will completely restore 
you, you can get your money changed there, and 
a steamer of this company’s will take you away two 
days after you land.” 

“I cannot remain aboard this steamer,” said 
Markham quickly. “I must leave at St. Helena.” 
Then he walked away with that shortness of ceremony 
which steamer voyagers get into a habit of showing 
to each other without giving offence. 

“ Poor beggar ! ” muttered Harwood. “ Wrecked 
in sight of the haven — a pleasant haven — yes, if he 
is not an uncommonly good actor. ” He turned round 
from where he was leaning over the ship’s side 
smoking, and saw the man with whom he had been 
talking seated in his chair by the side of Daireen 
Gerald. He watched them for some time — for a 
long time — until his cigar was smoked to the very 
end. He looked over the side thoughtfully as he 
dropped the remnant and heard its little hiss in the 
water; then he repeated his words, “a wreck.” 
Once more he glanced astern, and then he added 
thoughtfully, “Yes, he is right; he had much better 
part at St. Helena— very much better.” 

Mr. Markham seemed quite naturally to have 
found his place in Mrs. Crawford’s set, exclusive 
though it was; for somehow aboard ship a man 
amalgamates only with that society for which he is 
suited; a man is seldom to be found out of place 
on account of certain considerations such as one 


144 


DAIREEN. 


meets on shore. Not even Mr. Glaston could raise 
any protest against Mr. Markham’s right to take a 
place in the midst of the elect of the cabin. But the 
young lady in whose birthday book Mr. Markham 
had inscribed his name upon the first day of his 
appearance at the table, thought it very unkind of 
him to join the band who had failed to appreciate 
her toilet splendours. 

During the day on which he gave Harwood his 
brief autobiographical outline, Mr. Oswin Markham 
was frequently by the side of Miss Gerald and Mrs. 
Crawford. But towards night the major felt that it 
would be unjust to allow him to be defrauded of 
the due amount of narratory entertainment so 
necessary for his comfort ; and with these excellent 
intentions drew him away from the others of the 
set, and, sitting on the secluded bridge, brought 
forth from the abundant resources of his memory a 
few well-defined anecdotes of that lively Arradambad 
station. But all the while the major was narrating 
the stories he could see that Markham’s soul was 
otherwhere, and he began to be disappointed in Mr. 
Markham. 

“ I mustn’t bore you, Markham, my boy,” he said 
as he rose, after having whiled away about two hours 
of the night in this agreeable occupation. “No, I 
mustn’t bore you, and you look, upon my soul, as 
if you had been suffering.” 

“ No, no, I assure you, I never enjoyed anything 
more than that story of — of — the Surgeon-General 
and the wife of — of — the Commissary.” 

“The Adjutant-General, you mean,” interrupted 
the major. 

“ Of course, yes, the Adjutant ; a deucedly good 
story! ” 

“Ah, not bad, is it? But there goes six bells; 
I must think about turning in. Come and join me 
in a glass of brandy-and-water. ” 


DAIREEN. 


145 


“ No, no; not to-night — not to-night. The fact is 
I feel — I feel queer.” 

“ You’re not quite set on your feet yet, my boy,” 
said the major critically. “Take care of yourself.” 
And he walked away, wondering if it was possible 
that he had been deceived in his estimate of the 
nature of Mr. Markham. 

But Mr. Markham continued sitting alone in the 
silence of the deserted deck. His thoughts were truly 
otherwhere. He lay back upon his seat and kept 
his eyes fixed upon the sky — the sky of stars towards 
which he had looked in agony for those four nights 
when nothing ever broke in upon the dread loneliness 
of the barren sea but those starlights. The terrible 
recollection of every moment he had passed returned 
to him. 

Then he thought how he had heard of men 
becoming, through sufferings such as his, oblivious 
of everything of their past life — men who were thus 
enabled to begin life anew without being racked 
by any dread memories, the agony that they had 
endured being acknowledged by Heaven as expiation 
of their past deeds. That was justice, he felt, and 
if this justice had been done to these men, why 
had it been withheld from him? 

“ Could God Himself have added to what I 
endured ? ” he said, in passionate bitterness. “ God ! 
did I not suffer until my agony had overshot its 
mark by destroying in me the power of feeling 
agony — my agony consumed itself; I was dead — 
dead; and yet I am denied the power of beginning 
my new life under the conditions which are my due. 
What more can God want of man than his life? 
have I not paid that debt daily for four days?” 
He rose from his chair and stood upright upon 
the deck with clenched hands and lips. “ It is 
past,” he said, after a long pause. “From this 
hour I throw the past beneath my feet. It is my 

10 


146 


DAIREEN. 


right to forget all, and — I have forgotten all — all.” 

Mr. Harwood had truly reason to feel surprised 
when, on the following day, Oswin Markham came 
up to him, arid said quietly, 

“I believe you are right, Harwood: after all, it 
would be foolish for me to part from the ship at 
St. Helena. I have decided to take your advice 
and run on to the Cape.” 

Harwood looked at him for a few moments before 
he answered slowly, 

*Ah, you have decided.” 

“Yes; you see I am amenable to reason: I 
acknowledge the wisdom of my counsellors.” But 
Harwood made no answer, only continued with his 
eyes fixed upon his face. “ Hang it all, ” exclaimed 
Markham, “can’t you congratulate me upon my 
return to the side of reason? Can’t you acknowledge 
that you have been mistaken in me — that you find 
I am not so pig-headed as you supposed?” 

“Yes,” said Harwood; “ you are not pig-headed. ” 
And, taking all things into consideration, it can 
hardly be denied that Mr. Oswin Markham’s claim 
to be exempted firom the class of persons called 
pig-headed was well founded. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

*Tis told me he hath very oft of late 

Given private time to you: and you yomself 

Have of your audience been most free and boimteous. 

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? — Hamlet. 

Mrs. Crawford felt that she was being unkindly 
dealt with by Fate in many matters. She had formed 
certain plans on coming aboard the steamer and 
on taking in at a glance the position of everyone 
about her — it was her habit to do so on the occasion 
of her arrival at any new station in the Indian 
Empire — and hitherto she had generally had the 
satisfaction of witnessing the success of her plans; 
but now she began to fear that if things continued 
to diverge so widely from the paths which it was 
natural to expect them to have kept, her skilful 
devices would be completely overthrown. 

Mrs. Crawford had within the first few hours of 
the voyage communicated to her husband her 
intention of surprising Colonel Gerald on the arrival 
of his daughter at the Cape; for he could scarcely 
fail to be surprised and, of course, gratified, if he 
were made aware of the fact that his daughter 
had conceived an attachment for a young man so 
distinguished in many ways as the son of the Bishop 
of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the 
Salamander Archipelago — the style and titles of the 
father of Mr. Glaston. 


147 


148 


DAIREEN. 


But Daireen, instead of showing herself a docile 
subject and ready to act according to the least 
suggestion of one who was so much wiser and more 
experienced than herself, had begun to think and 
to act most waywardly. Though she had gone ashore 
at Madeira contrary to Mr. Glaston’s advice, and 
had even ventured to assert, in the face of Mr. 
Glaston’s demonstration to the contrary, that she had 
spent a pleasant day, yet Mrs. Crawford saw that 
it would be quite possible, by care and thoughtfulness 
in the future, to overcome all the unhappy influences 
her childishness would have upon the mind of Mr. 
Glaston. 

Being well aware of this, she had for some days 
great hope of her prot^g^e\ but then Daireen had 
apparently cast to the winds all her sense of duty to 
those who were qualified to instruct her, for she had 
not only disagreed from Mr. Glaston upon a theory he 
had expressed regarding the symbolism of a certain 
design having for its chief elements sections of pome- 
granates and conventionalized daisies — Innocence 
allured by Ungovernable Passion was the parable 
preached through the union of some tones of sage 
green and saffron, Mr. Glaston assured the circle 
whom he had favoured with his views on this subject 
— but she had also laughed when Mr. Harwood 
made some whispered remark about the distressing 
diffusion of jaundice through the floral creation. 

This was very sad to Mrs. Crawford. She was 
nearly angry with Daireen, and if she could have 
eifforded it, she would have been angry with Mr. , 
Harwood; she was, however, mindful of the influ- 
ence of the letters she hoped the special correspond- 
ent of the “Dominant Trumpeter” would be writ- 
ing regarding the general satisfaction that was felt 
throughout the colonies of South Africa that the Home 
Government had selected so efficient and trustworthy 
an officer to discharge the duties in connection with 


DAIREEN. 


149 


the Army Boot Commission, so she could not be 
anything but most friendly towards Mr. Harwood. 

Then it was a great grief to Mrs. Crawford to 
see the man who, though undoubtedly well educated 
and even cultured, was still a sort of adventurer, 
seating himself more than once by the side of 
Daireen on the deck, and to notice that the girl 
talked with him even when Mr. Glaston was near 
— Mr. Glaston, who had referred to his sudden 
arrival aboard the ship as being melodramatic. But 
on the day preceding the expected arrival of the 
steamer at St. Helena, the well-meaning lady began 
to feel almost happy once more, for she recollected 
how fixed had been Mr. Markham’s determination 
to leave the steamer at the island. Being almost 
happy, she thought she might go so far as to express 
to the man the grief which reflecting upon his 
departure excited. 

“We shall miss you from our little circle, I can 
assure you, Mr. Markham,” she said. “Your coming 
was so— so — ’’she thought of a substitute for melo- 
dramatic — “so unexpected, and so — well, almost 
romantic, that indeed it has left an impression upon 
all of us. Try and get into a room in the hotel at 
James Town that the white ants haven’t devoured; 
I really envy you the delicious water-cress you 
will have every day.” 

“ You will be spared the chance of committing 
that sin, Mrs. Crawford, though I fear the penance 
which will be imposed upon you for having even 
imagined it, will be unjustly great. The fact is, I 
have been so weak as to allow myself to be 
persuaded by Doctor Campion and Harwood to go 
on the Cape.” 

“To go on to the Cape! ” exclaimed the lady. 

“To go on to the Cape, Mrs. Crawford; so you 
see you will be bored with me for another week.” 

Mrs. Crawford looked utterly bewildered, as, indeed, 


DAIREEN. 


150 

she was. Her smile was very faint as she said: 

“Ah, how nice; you have been persuaded. Ah, 
very pleasant it will be; but how one may be 
deceived in judging of another’s character! I really 
formed the impression that you were firmness itself, 
Mr. Markham ! ” 

“ So I am, Mrs. Crawford, except when my 
inclination tends in the opposite direction to my 
resolution; then, I assure you, I can be led with a 
strand of floss.” 

This was, of course, very pleasant chat, and with 
the clink of compliment about it, but it was anything 
but satisfactory to the lady to whom it was addressed. 
She by no means felt in the mood for listening to 
mere colloquialisms, even though they might be of 
the most brilliant nature, which Mr. Markham’s 
certainly were not. 

“Yes, I fancied that you were firmness itself,” 
she repeated. “But you allowed your mind to be 
changed by— by the doctor and Mr. Harwood.” 

“ Well, not wholly, to say the truth, Mrs. Crawford,” 
he interposed. “ It is pitiful to have to confess 
that I am capable of being influenced by a monetary 
matter ; but so it is : the fact is, if I vrere to land now 
at St. Helena, I should be not only penniless myself, 
but I should be obliged also to run in debt for these 
garments that my friend Phineas F. Fulton of Denver 
City, supplied me with, not to speak of what I feel 
I owe to the steamer itself; so I think it is better 
for me to get my paper money turned into cash at 
the Cape, and then hurry homewards.” 

“No doubt you understand your own business,” 
said the lady, smiling faintly as she walked away. 

Mr. Os win Markham watched her for some moments 
in a thoughtful way. He had known for a consi- 
derable time that the major’s wife understood her 
business, at any rate, and that she was also quite 
capable of comprehending — nay, of directing as 


DAIREEN. 


151 

well — the business of every member of her social 
circle. But how was it possible, he asked himself, 
that she should have come to look upon his remaining 
for another week aboard the steamer as a matter of 
concern? He was a close enough observer to be 
able to see from her manner that she did so; but 
he could not understand how she should regard him 
as of any importance in the arrangement of her 
plans for the next week, whatever they might be. 

But Mrs. Crawford, so soon as she found herself 
by the side of Daireen in the evening, resolved to 
satisfy herself upon the subject of the influences 
which had been brought to bear upon Mr. Oswin 
Markham, causing his character for determination to 
be lost for ever. 

Daireen was sitting alone far astern, and had just 
finished directing some envelopes for letters to be 
sent home the next day from St. Helena. 

“ What a capital habit to get into of writing on that 
little case on your knee ! ” said Mrs. Crawford. “You 
have been on deck all day, you see, while the other cor- 
respondents are shut down in the saloon. You have 
had a good deal to tell the old people at that won- 
derful Irish lake of yours since you wrote at Madeira. ” 

Daireen thought of all she had written regarding 
Standish, to prevent his father becoming uneasy 
about him. 

“ Oh, yes, I have had a good deal of news that 
will interest them,” she said. “I have told them 
that the Atlantic is not such a terrible place after 
all. Why, we have not had even a breeze yet.” 

“No, we have not, but you should not forget, 
Daireen, the tornado that at least one ship perished 
in.” She looked gravely at the girl, though she 
felt very pleased indeed to know that her proUg^e 
had not remembered this particular storm. “You 
have mentioned in your letters, I hope, how Mr. 
Markham was saved?” 


52 


DAIREEN. 


“ I believe I devoted an entire page to Mr. 
Markham,” Daireen replied with a smile. 

“That is right, my dear. You have also said, I 
am sure, how we all hope he is — a — a gentleman.” 

*^Hope?^ said Daireen quickly. Then she added 
after a pause, “No, Mrs. Crawford, I don’t think I 
said that. I only said that he would be leaving us 
to-morrow.” 

Mrs. Crawford’s nicely sensitive ear detected, she 
fancied, a tinge of regret in the girl’s last tone. 

“ Ah, he told you that he had made up his mind 
to leave the ship at St. Helena, did he not ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Of course he is to leave us there, Mrs. Crawford. 
Did you not understand so?” 

“I did indeed; but I am disappointed in Mr. 
Markham. I thought that he was everything that 
is firm. Yes, I am disappointed in him.” 

“How?” said Daireen, with a little flush and an 
anxious movement of her eyes. “ How do you mean 
he has disappointed you? ” 

“He is not going to leave us at St. Helena, 
Daireen; he is coming on with us to the Cape.” 

With sorrow and dismay Mrs. Crawford noticed 
Daireen’s face undergo a change from anxiety to 
pleasure; nor did she allow the little flush that came 
to the girl’s forehead to escape her observation. 
These changes of countenance were almost terrifying 
to the lady. “It is the first time I have had my 
confidence in him shaken,” she added. “In spite 
of what Mr. Harwood said of him I had not the 
least suspicion of this Mr. Markham, but now ” 

“ What did Mr. Harwood say of him? ” asked 
Daireen, with a touch of scorn in her voice. 

“You need not get angry, Daireen, my child,” 
replied Mrs. Crawford. 

“Angry, Mrs. Crawford? How could you fancy 
I was angry? Only what right had this Mr. Harwood 


DAIKEEN. 


153 


to say anything about Mr. Markham? Perhaps Mr. 
Glaston was saying something too. I thought that 
as Mr. Markham was a stranger everyone here 
would treat him with consideration, and yet, you 
see * 

“ Good gracious, Daireen, what can you possibly 
mean ? ” cried Mrs. Crawford. “ Not a soul has ever 
treated Mr. Markham except in good taste from the 
day he came aboard this vessel. Of course young 
men will talk, especially young newspaper men, and 
more especially young ‘Dominant Trumpeter’ men. 
For myself, you saw how readily I admitted Mr. 
Markham into our set, though you will allow that, 
all things considered, I need not have done so at 
all.” 

“He was a stranger, ” said Daireen. 

“ But he is not therefore an angel unawares, my 
dear, ” said Mrs. Crawford, smiling as she patted the 
girl’s hand in token of amity. “ So long as he meant 
to be a stranger of course we were justified in 
making him as pleasant as possible; but now, you 
see, he is not going to be a stranger. But why 
should we talk upon so unprofitable a subject? Tell 
me all the rest that you have been writing about. ” 

Daireen made an attempt to recollect what were 
the topics of her letters, but she was not very 
successful in recalling them. 

“ I told them about the — the albatross, how it has 
followed us so faithfully, ” she said ; “ and how the 
Cape pigeons came to us yesterday.” 

“Ah, indeed. Very nice it will be for the dear 
old people at home. Ah, Daireen, how happy you 
are to have some place you can look back upon 
and think of as your home. Here am I in my old 
age still a vagabond upon the face of the earth. 
I have no home, dear.” The lady felt that this 
piece of pathos should touch the girl deeply. 

“No, no, don’t say that, my dear Mrs. Crawford,” 


154 


DAIREEN. 


Daireen said gently. “Say that your dear kind 
good-nature makes you feel at home in every part 
of the World.” 

This was very nice Mrs. Crawford felt, as she 
kissed the face beside her, but she did not there- 
fore come to the conclusion that it would be well 
to forget that little expression of pleasure which 
had flashed over this same face a few minutes 
before. 

At this very hour upon the evening following the 
anchors were being weighed, and the good steamer 
was already backing slowly out from the place it 
had occupied in the midst of the little fleet of whale- 
ships and East Indiamen beneath the grim shadow 
of that black ocean rock, St. Helena. The church 
spire of James Town was just coming into view as 
the motion of the ship disclosed a larger space of 
the gorge where the little town is built. The flag 
was being hauled down from the spar at the top of 
Ladder Hill, and the man was standing by the 
sunset gun aboard H.M.S. Cobra. The last of 
the shore-boats was cast off from the rail, and 
then, the anchor being reported in sight, the steamer 
put on full speed ahead, the helm was made hard- 
a-starboard, and the vessel swept round out of the 
harbour. 

Mr. Harwood and Major Crawford were in anxious 
conversation with an Engineer oflicer who had been 
summoned to the Cape to assist in a certain council 
which was to be held regarding the attitude of a 
Kafir chief who was inclined to be defiant of the 
lawful possessors of the country. But Daireen was 
standing at the ship’s side looking at that wonderful 
line of mountain-wall connecting the batteries round 
the island. Her thoughts were not, however, wholly 
of the days when there was a reason why this little 
island should be the most strongly fortified in the 
ocean. As the steamer moved gently round the dark 


DAIREEN. 


155 


cliffs she was not reflecting upon what must have 
been the feelings of the great Emperor-general who 
had been accustomed to stand upon these cliffs and 
to look seaward. Her thoughts were indeed un- 
defined in their course, and she knew this when 
she heard the voice of Oswin Markham beside her. 

“ Can you fancy what would be my thoughts at 
this time if I had kept to my resolution — and if 
I were now up there among those big rocks? ” he 
asked. 

She shook her head, but did not utter a word in 
answer. 

“ I wonder what would yours have been now if 
I had kept to my resolution,” he then said. 

“I cannot tell you, indeed,” she answered. “I 
cannot fancy what I should be thinking.” 

"Nor can I tell you what my thought would be,” 
he said after a pause. He was leaning with one 
arm upon the moulding of the bulwarks, and she 
had her eyes still fixed upon the ridges of the is- 
land. He touched her and pointed out over the 
water. The sun like a shield of sparkling gold had 
already buried half its disc beneath the horizon. 
They watched the remainder become gradually less 
and less until only a thread of gold was on the wa- 
ter ; in another instant this had dwindled away. 
" I know now how I should have felt, ” he said, with 
his eyes fixed upon the blank horizon. 

The girl looked out to that blank horizon also. 

Then from each fort on the cliffs there leaped a 
little flash of light, and the roar of the sunset guns 
made thunder all along the hollow shore ; before the 
echoes had given back the sound, faint bugle-calls 
were borne out to the ocean as fort answered fort 
all along that line of mountain-wall. The girl listened 
until the faintest farthest thin sound dwindled away 
just as the last touch of sunlight had waned into 
blankness upon the horizon. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Polonhis. What treasure had he, my lord? 

Hamlet. Why, 

“One fair daughter and no more, 

The which he loved passing well.” 

O my old friend, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last. . , . 
What, my young lady and mistress! By’r lady, your ladyship is 
nearer to heaven than when I saw you last. . , . You are all wel- 
come. — Hamlet. 

However varying, indefinite, and objectless the 
thoughts of Daireen Gerald may have been — and they 
certainly were — during the earlier days of the voyage, 
they were undoubtedly fixed and steadfast during 
the last week. She knew that she could not hear 
anything of her father until she would arrive at the 
Cape, and so she had allowed herself to be buoyed 
up by the hopeful conversation of the major and 
Mrs. Crawford, who seemed to think of her meeting 
with her father as a matter of certainty; and by 
the various little excitements of every day. But now 
when she knew that upon what the next few days 
would bring forth all the happiness of her future 
life depended, what thought — what prayer but one, 
could she have? 

She was certainly not good company during these 
final days. Mr. Harwood never got a word from 
her. Mr. Glaston did not make the attempt, though he 
attributed her silence to remorse at having neglected 
his artistic instructions. Major Crawford^s gallantries 

xs6 


DAIREEN. 


157 


received no smiling recognition from her ; and 
Mrs. Crawford’s most motherly pieces of pathos 
went by unheeded so far as Daireen was concerned. 

What on earth was the matter, Mrs. Crawford 
thought; could it be possible that her worst fears 
were realized? she asked herself; and she made a 
vow that even if Mr. Harwood had spoken a single 
word on the subject of affection to Daireen, he 
should forfeit her own friendship for ever. 

“My dear Daireen,” she said, two days after 
leaving St. Helena, “ you know I love you as a 
daughter, and I have come to feel for you as a 
mother might. I know something is the matter — 
what is it? you may confide in me; indeed you may.” 

“ How good you are ! ” said the child of this 
adoption ; “ how very good ! You know all that 
is the matter, though you have in your kindness 
prevented me from feeling it hitherto.” 

“ Good gracious, Daireen, you frighten me ! No 
one can have been speaking to you surely, while I 
am your guardian ” 

“You know what a wretched doubt there is in 
my mind now that I know a few days will tell me 
all that can be told— you know the terrible question 
that comes to me every day — every hour — shall I 
see him? — shall he be — alive?” 

Even the young men, with no touches of motherly 
pathos about them, had appreciated the girl’s feelings 
in those days more readily than Mrs. Crawford. 

“ My poor dear little thing,” she now said, fondling 
her in a way whose soothing effect the combined 
efforts of all the young men could never have 
approached. “ Don’t let the doubt enter your mind 
for an instant — it positively must not. Your father 
is as well as I am to-day, I can assure you. Can 
you disbelieve me? I know him a great deal better 
than you do; and I know the Cape climate better 
than you do. Nonsense, my dear, no one ever dies 


158 


DAIREEN. 


at the Cape— at least not when they go there to 
recover. Now make your mind easy for the next 
three days.” 

But for just this interval poor Daireen’s mind 
was in a state of anything but repose. 

During the last night the steamer would be on the 
voyage she found it utterly impossible to go to sleep. 
She heard all of the bells struck from watch to watch. 
Her cabin became stifling to her though a cool 
breeze was passing through the opened port. She 
rose, dressed herself, and went on deck though it 
was about two o’clock in the morning. It was a 
terrible thing for a girl to do, but nothing could have 
prevented Daireen’s taking that step. She stood just 
outside the door of the companion and in the moon- 
light and soft air of the sea more ease of mind came 
to her than she had yet felt on this voyage. 

While she stood there in the moonlight listening 
to the even whisperings of the water as it parted 
away before the ship, and to the fitful flights of the 
winged fish, she seemed to hear some order as she 
thought, given from the forward part of the vessel. 
In another minute the officer on watch hastened 
past her. She heard him knock at the captain’s 
cabin which was just aft of the deck-house, and 
make the report. 

“Fixed light right ahead, sir.” 

She knew then that the first glimpse of the land 
which they were approaching had been obtained, 
and her anxiety gave place to peace. That message 
of the light seemed to be ominous of good to her. 
She returned to her cabin, and found it cool and 
tranquil, so that she fell asleep at once; and when 
she next opened her eyes she saw a tall man standing 
with folded arms beside her, gazing at her. She 
gave but one little cry, and then that long drooping 
moustache of his was down upon her face and her 
bare arms were about his neck. 


DAIREEN. 


159 


“Thank you, thank you, Dolly; that is a sufl&ciently 
close escape from strangulation to make me respect 
your powers,” said the man; and at the sound of 
his voice Daireen turned her face to her pillow, 
while the man shook out with spasmodic fingers 
his handkerchief from its folds and endeavoured to 
repair the injury done to his moustache by the girl’s 
embrace. 

“Now, now, my Dolly,” he said after some 
convulsive mutterings which Daireen could, of 
course, not hear; “now, now, don’t you think it 
might be as well to think of making some apology 
for your laziness instead of trying to go asleep 
again ? ” 

Then she looked up with wondering eyes. 

“ I don’t understand anything at all, ” she cried. 
“ How could I go asleep when we were within four 
hours of the Cape ? How could anyone be so cruel 
as to let me sleep so dreadfully? It was wicked 
of me; it was quite wicked.” 

“ There’s not the least question about the enormity 
of the crime, I’m afraid,” he answered; “only I 
think that Mrs. Crawford may be responsible for 
a good deal of it, if her confession to me is to be 
depended upon. She told me how you were — but 
never mind, I am the ill-treated one in the matter, 
and I forgive you all.” 

“And we have actually been brought into the 
dock ? ” 

“For the past half hour, my love; and I have 
been waiting for much longer. I got the telegram 
you sent to me, by the last mail from Madeira, so 
that I have been on the look-out for the Cardwell 
Castle for a week. Now don’t be too hard on an 
old boy, Dolly, with all of those questions I see 
on your lips. Here, I’ll take them in the lump, and 
think over them as I get through a glass of brandy- 
and- water with Jack Crawford and the Sylph — by 


i6o 


DAIREEN. 


George, to think of your meeting with the poor 
old hearty Sylph — ah, I forgot you never heard 
that we used to call Mrs. Crawford the Sylph at 
our station before you were bom. There, now I 
have got all your questions, my darling — my own 
darling little Dolly.” 

She only gave him a little hug this time, and 
he hastened up to the deck, where Mrs. Crawford 
and her husband were waiting for him. 

“ Now, did I say anything more of her than was 
the truth, George?” cried Mrs. Crawford, so soon 
as Colonel Gerald got on deck. 

But Colonel Gerald smiled at her abstractedly and 
pulled fiercely at the ends of his moustache. Then 
seeing Mr. Harwood at the other side of the skylight, 
he ran and shook hands with him warmly; and 
Harwood, who fancied he understood something of 
the theory of the expression of emotion in mankind, 
refrained from hinting to the colonel that they had 
already had a chat together since the steamer had 
come into dock. 

Mrs. Crawford, however, was not particularly 
well-pleased to find that her old friend George Gerald 
had only answered her with that vague smile, which 
implied nothing; she knew that he had been speaking 
for half an hour before with Harwood, from whom 
he had heard the first intelligence of his appointment 
to the Castaway group. When Colonel Gerald, 
however, went the length of rushing up to Doctor 
Campion and violently shaking hands with him also, 
though they had been in conversation together before, 
the lady began to fear that the attack of fever 
from which it was reported Daireen’s father had 
been suffering, had left its traces upon him still. 

“Rather rum, by gad,” said the major, 'when his 
attention was called to his old comrade’s behaviour. 
“ Just like the way a boy would behave visiting his 
grandmother, isn’t it? Looks as if he were working 


DAIREEN. 


l6l 


off his feelings, doesn’t it? By gad, he’s going 
back to Harwood! ” 

“ I thought he would, ” said Mrs. Crawford. 
“Harwood can tell him all about his appointment. 
That’s what George, like all the rest of them 
nowadays, is anxious about. He forgets his child 
— he has no interest in her, I see.” 

“That’s devilish bad, Kate, devilish bad! by Jingo! 
But upon my soul, I was under the impression that 
his wildness just now was the effect of having been 
below with the kid.” 

“ If he had the least concern about her, would he 
not come to me, when he knows very well that I 
could tell him all about the voyage? But no, he 
prefers to remain by the side of the special cor- 
respondent. ” 

“ No, he doesn’t ; here he comes, and hang me if 
he isn’t going to shake hands with both of us ! ” 
cried the major, as Colonel Gerald, recognizing him, 
apparently for the first time, left Harwood’s side and 
hastened across the deck with extended hand. 

“ George, dear old George, ” said Mrs. Crawford, 
reflecting upon the advantages usually attributed to 
the conciliatory method of treatment. “ Isn’t it like 
the old time come back again? Here we stand 
together — ^Jack, Campion, yourself and myself, just 
as we used to be in — ah, it cannot have been ’58! 
— yes, it was, good gracious, ’58! It seems like a 
dream. ” 

“Exactly like a dream, by Jingo, my dear,” said 
the major pensively, for he was thinking what an 
auxiliary to the realistic effect of the scene a glass 
of brandy-and-water, or some other Indian cooling 
drink, would be. “Just like a vision, you know, 
George, isn’t it? So if you’ll come to the smoking- 
room, we’ll have that light breakfast we were talking 
about.” 

“He won’t go, major,” said the lady severely. 


II 


i 62 


DAIREEN. 


“ He wishes to have a talk with me about the dear 
child. Don’t you, George?” 

" And about your dear self, Kate, ” replied Colonel 
Gerald, in the Irish way that brought back to the 
lady still more vividly all the old memories of the 
happy station on the Himalayas. 

“Ah, how like George that, isn’t it?” she whis- 
pered to her husband. 

“ My dear girl, don’t be a fool, ” was the parting 
request of the major as he strolled off to where the 
doctor was, he knew, waiting for some sign that 
the brandy and water were amalgamating. 

“ I’m glad that we are alone, George, ” said Mrs. 
Crawford, taking Colonel Gerald’s arm. “We can 
talk together freely about the child — about Daireen. ” 

“And what have we to say about her, Kate? 
Can you give me any hints about her temper, eh? 
How she needs to be managed, and that sort of 
thing? You used to be. capital at that long ago.” 

“ And I flatter myself that I can still tell all about 
a girl after a single glance; but, my dear George, 
I never indeed knew what a truly perfect nature 
was until I came to understand Daireen. She is an 
angel, George.” 

“No,” said the Colonel gently; “not Daireen — 
she is not the angel; but her face, when I saw it 
just now upon its pillow, sent back all my soul in 
thought of one — one who is — who always was an 
angel — my good angel.” 

“That was my first thought too,” said Mrs. Craw- 
ford. “ And her nature is the same. Only poor 
Daireen errs on the side of good nature. She is a 
child in her simplicity of thought about everyone 
she meets. She wants some one near her who will 
be able to guide her tastes in — in — well, in different 
matters. By the way, you remember Austin Glaston, 
who was chaplain for a while on the Telemachus, 
and who got made Bishop of the Salamanders; well. 


DAIREEN. 


163 

that is his son, that tall handsome young man — I 
must present you. He is one of the most distin- 
guished men I ever met.” 

Ah, indeed? Does he write for a newspaper?” 

“ Oh, George, I am ashamed of you. No, Mr. 
Glaston is a — a — an artist and a poet, and — well, he 
does nearly everything much better than anyone 
else, and if you take my advice you will give him 
an invitation to dinner, and then you will find 
out all.” 

Before Colonel Gerald could utter a word he was 
brought face to face with Mr. Glaston, and felt his 
grasp responded to by a gentle pressure. 

“I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Glaston; your 
father and I were old friends. If you are staying 
at Cape Town, I hope you will not neglect to call 
upon my daughter and myself,” said the colonel. 

“You are extremely kind,” returned the young 
man; “I shall be delighted.” 

Thus Daireen on coming on deck found her father 
in conversation with Mr. Glaston and already 
acquainted with every member of Mrs. Crawford’s 
circle. 

“Mr. Glaston has just promised to pay you a 
visit on shore, my dear,” said the major’s wife, as 
she came up. 

“How very kind,” said Daireen. “But can he 
tell me where I live ashore, for no one has thought 
fit to let me know anything about myself. I will 
never forgive you, Mrs. Crawford, for ordering that 
I was not to be awakened this morning. It was 
too cruel.” 

“ Only to be kind, dear ; I knew what a state of 
nervousness you were in.” 

“ And now of course, ” continued the girl, “ when 
I come on deck all the news will have been told — 
even that secret about the Castaway Islands.” 

“ Heavens ! ” said the colonel, “ what about the 


164 


DAIREEN. 


Castaway Islands? Have they been submerged, 
or have they thrown off the British yoke already? ” 

“ I see you know all,” she said mournfully, “ and 
I had treasured up all that Mr. Harwood said no 
one in the world but himself knew, to be the first 
to tell you. And now, too, you know everyone 
aboard except — ah, I have my secret to tell at last. 
There he stands, and even you don’t remember him, 
papa. Come here, Standish, and let me present you. 
This, papa, is Standish Macnamara, and he is coming 
out with us now to wherever we are to live.” 

“Good gracious, Daireen!” cried Mrs. Crawford. 

“ What, Standish, Prince of Innishdermot! ” said 
the colonel. “ My dear boy, I am delighted to 
welcome you to this strange place. I remember 
you when your curls were a good deal longer, my 
boy.” 

Poor Standish, who was no longer in his sailor’s 
jacket, but in the best attire his Dublin tailor could 
provide, blushed most painfully as everyone gazed 
at him — everyone with the exception of Daireen, 
who was gazing anxiously around the deck as though 
she expected to see some one still. 

“This is certainly a secret,” murmured Mrs. 
Crawford. 

“ Now, Daireen, to the shore,” said Colonel Gerald. 
“You need not say good-bye to anyone here. Mrs. 
Crawford will be out to dine with us to-morrow. 
She will bring the major and Doctor Campion, and 
Mr. Harwood says he will ride one of my horses 
till he gets his own. So there need be no tears. 
My man will look after the luggage while I drive 
you out. ” 

“I must get my bag from my cabin,” Daireen 
said, going slowly towards the companion. In a 
few moments she re-appeared with her dressing-bag, 
and gave another searching glance around the deck. 

“Now,” she said, “I am ready.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


Something have you heard 

Of Hamlet’s transformation; so call it — 

. . . What it should be . . . 

I cannot dream of . , . 

. . . gather 

So much as from occasion you may glean 

Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him. 

At night we’ll feast together; 

Most welcome home! 

Most fair return of greetings. — Hamlet, 

“What an extraordinary affair!** said Mrs. 
Crawford, turning from where she had been watching 
the departure of the colonel and his daughter and 
that tall, handsome young friend of theirs whom 
they had called Standish Macnamara. “ I would not 
have believed it of Daireen. Standish Macnamara — 
what a dreadful Irish name! But where can he 
have been aboard the ship? He cannot have been 
one of those terrible fore-cabin passengers. Ah, I 
would not have believed her capable of such dis- 
ingenuousness. Who is this young man, Jack?** 
“My dear girl, never mind the young man or 
the young woman just now. We must look after 
the traps and get them through the Custom-house, ” 
replied the major. 

“ Mr. Harwood, who is this young man with the 
terrible Irish name?** she asked in desperation of 
the special correspondent She felt indeed in an 

165 


i66 


DAIREEN. 


extremity when she sought Harwood for an ally. 

“ I never was so much astonished in all my life, ” 
he whispered in answer. “ I never heard of him. 
She never breathed a word about him to me.” 

Mrs. Crawford did not think this at all improbable, 
seeing that Daireen had never breathed a word 
about him to herself. 

“My dear Mr. Harwood, these Irish are too 
romantic for us. It is impossible for us ever to 
understand them.” And she hastened away to look 
after her luggage. It was not until she was quite 
alone that she raised her hands, exclaiming devoutly, 
“ Thank goodness Mr. Glaston had gone before this 
second piece of romance was disclosed 1 What on 
earth would he have thought! ” 

The reflection made the lady shudder. Mr. 
Glaston’s thoughts, if he had been present while 
Daireen was bringing forward this child of mystery, 
Standish Macnamara, would, she knew, have been 
too terrible to be uttered. 

As for Mr. Harwood, though he professed to be 
affected by nothing that occurred about him, still he 
felt himself uncomfortably surprised by the sudden 
appearance of the young Irishman with whom Miss 
Gerald and her father appeared to be on such 
familiar terms; and as he stood looking up to that 
marvellous hill in whose shadow Cape Town lies, 
he came to the conclusion that it would be as well 
for him to find out all that could be known about 
this Standish Macnamara. He had promised 
Daireen’s father to make use of one of his horses 
so long as he should remain at the Cape, and it 
appeared from all he could gather that the affairs 
in the colony were becoming sufficiently complicated 
to compel his remaining here instead of hastening 
out to make his report of the Castaway group. The 
British nation were of course burning to hear all 
that could be told about the new island colony, but 


DAIREEN. 


167 


IMr. Harwood knew very well that the heading 
which would be given in the columns of the 
Dominant Trumpeter ” to any information regarding 
the attitude of the defiant Kafir chief would be in 
very much larger type than that of the most flowery 
paragraph descriptive of the charms of the Castaway 
group; and so he had almost made up his mind 
that it would be to the advantage of the newspaper 
that he should stay at the Cape. Of course he felt 
that he had at heart no further interests, and so 
long as it was not conflicting with those interests 
he would ride Colonel Gerald’s horse, and, perhaps, 
walk with Colonel Gerald’s daughter. 

But all the time that he was reflecting in this 
consistent manner the colonel and his daughter and 
Standish were driving along the base of Table Moun- 
tain, while on the other side the blue waters of the 
lovely bay were sparkling between the low shores 
of pure white sand, and far away the dim mountain 
ridges were seen. 

“Shall I ever come to know that mountain and 
all about it as well as I know our own dear Slieve 
Docas ? ” cried the girl, looking around her. “ Will 
you, do 3^ou think, Standish?” 

“Nothing here can compare with our Irish land, ” 
cried Standish. 

“You are right, my boy,” said Daireen’s father. 
“ I have knocked about a good deal, and I have seen 
a good many places, and, after all, I have come to 
the conclusion that our own Suangorm is worth all 
that I have seen for beauty.” 

“We can all sympathize with each other here,” 
said the girl laughing. “We will join hands and 
say that there is no place in the world like our 
Ireland, and then, maybe, the strangers here will 
believe us.” 

“Yes,” said her father, “we will think of our- 
selves in the midst of a strange country as three 


i68 


DAIREEN, 


representatives of the greatest nation in the world. 
Eh, Standish, that would please your father?” 

But Standish could not make any answer to this 
allusion to his father. He was, in fact, just now 
wondering what Colonel Gerald would say when he 
would hear that Standish had travelled six thousand 
miles for the sake of obtaining his advice as to the 
prudence of entertaining the thought of leaving home. 
Standish was beginning to fear that there was a flaw 
somewhere in the consistency of the step he had 
taken, complimentary though it undoubtedly was to 
the judgment of Colonel Gerald. He could hardly 
define the inconsistency of which he was conscious, 
but as the phaeton drove rapidly along the red road 
beside the high peak of the mountain he became 
more deeply impressed with the fact that it existed 
somewhere. 

Passing along great hedges of cactus and prickly- 
pear, and by the side of some well-wooded grounds 
with acres of trim green vineyards, the phaeton pro- 
ceeded for a few miles. The scene was strange to 
Daireen and Standish; only for the consciousness of 
that towering peak they were grateful. Even though 
its slope was not swathed in heather, it still resem- 
bled in its outline the great Slieve Docas, and this 
was enough to make them feel while passing beneath 
it that it was a landmark breathing of other days. 
Half way up the ascent they could see in a ravine 
a large grove of the silver-leaf fir, and the sun-glints 
among the exquisite white foliage were very lovely. 
Further down the mighty aloes threw forth their 
thick green branches in graceful divergence, and 
then along the road Were numerous bullock waggons 
with Malay drivers — eighteen or twenty animals 
running in a team. Nothing could have added to 
the strangeness of the scene to the girl and her 
companion, and yet the shadow of that great hill 
made the land seem no longer weary. 


DAIREEN. 


169 


At last, just at the foot of the hill, Colonel Gerald 
turned his horses to where there was a broad rough 
avenue made through a gi^ove of pines, and after 
following its curves for some distance, a large cleared 
space was reached, beyond which stood a num- 
ber of magnificent Australian oaks and fruit trees 
surrounding a long, low, Dutch-built house with an 
overhanging roof and the usual stoep — the raised 
stone border — in front. 

“This is our house, my darling,” said the girfs 
father, as he pulled up at the door. “ I had only a 
week to get it in order for you, but I hope you 
will like it.” 

“ Like it ? ” she cried ; “ it is lovelier than any 
we had in India, and then the hill — the hill — oh, 
papa, this is home indeed.” 

“And for me, my own little Dolly, donft you 
think it is home too ?” he said, when he had his arms 
about her in the hall. “ With this face in my hands 
at last I feel all the joy of home that has been 
denied to me for years. How often have I seen 
your face, Dolly, as I sat with my coffee in the 
evening in my lonely bungalow under the palms? 
The sight of it used to cheer me night after night, 
darling, but now that I have it here — here ” 

“ Keep it there, ” she cried. “ Oh, papa, papa, 
why should we be miserable apart ever again? I 
will stay with you now wherever you go for 
ever. ” 

Colonel Gerald looked at her for a minute, he 
kissed her once again upon the face and then burst 
into a laugh. 

“ And this is the only result of a voyage made 
under the protection of Mrs. Crawford ! ” he said. 
“ My dear, you must have used some charm to have 
resisted her power; or has she lost her ancient 
cunning? Why, after a voyage with Mrs. Crawford 
I have seen the most devoted daughters desert their 


170 


DAIREEN. 


parents. When I heard that you were coming out 
with her I feared you would allow yourself to be 
schooled by her into a sense of your duty, but it 
seems you have been stubborn.” 

“ She was everything that is kind to me, and I 
don’t know what I should have done without her, ” 
said the girl. “ Only I’ll never forgive her for not 
having awakened me to meet you this morning. 
But last night I suppose she thought I was too 
nervous. I was afraid, you know, lest — lest — but 
never mind, here we are together at home — for there 
is the hill — yes, at home. ” 

But when Daireen found herself in the room to 
which she had been shown by the neat little hand- 
maiden provided by Colonel Gerald, and had seated 
herself in sight of a bright green cactus that 
occupied the centre of the garden outside, she had 
much to think about. She just at this moment 
realized that all her pleasant life aboard the steamer 
was at an end. More than a touch of sadness was in 
her reflection, for she had come to think of the good 
steamer as something more than a mere machine ; it 
had been a home to her for twenty-two days, and 
it had contained her happiness and sorrow during 
that time as a home would have done. Then how 
could she have parted from it an hour before with 
so little concern? she asked herself. How could 
she have left it without shaking hands with — with 
all those who had been by her side for many days 
on the good old ship? Some she had said good-bye 
to, others she would see again on the following day, 
but still there were some whom she had left the 
ship without seeing — some who had been associated 
with her happiness during part of the voyage, at 
any rate, and she might never see them again. 
The reflection made her very sad, nor did the feeling 
pass off during the rest of the day spent by her 
father’s side. 


DAlREEN. 


171 


The day was very warm, and, as Daireen’s father 
was still weak, he did not stray away from the 
house beyond the avenue of shady oaks leading 
down to a little stream that moved sluggishly on 
its way a couple of hundred yards from the garden. 
They had, of course, plenty to talk about; for 
Colonel Gerald was somewhat anxious to hear how 
his friend Stan dish had come out. He had expressed 
the happiness he felt on meeting with the young 
man as soon as his daughter had said that he would 
go out to wherever they were to live, but he thought 
it would increase his satisfaction if his daughter 
would tell him how it came to pass that this 
young man was unacquainted with any of the 
passengers. 

Daireen now gave him the entire history of Stan- 
dish’s quarrel with his father, and declared that it 
was solely to obtain the advice of Colonel Gerald 
he had made the voyage from Ireland. 

The girl’s father laughed when he heard of this 
characteristic action on the part of the young man; 
but he declared that it proved he meant to work 
for himself in the world, and not be content to live 
upon the traditions of The Macnamara; and then 
he promised the girl that something should be done 
for the son of the hereditary prince. 


CHAPTER XXL 


The nights are wholesome; 

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 

So hallowed and so gracious is the time. 

What, has this thing appeared again to-night? — Hamlet, 

When evening came Daireen and her father sat 
out upon their chairs on the stoep in front of the 
house. The sun had for long been hidden by the 
great peak, though to the rest of the world not 
under its shadow he had only just sunk. The twilight 
was very different from the last she had seen on 
land, when the mighty Slieve Docas had appeared 
in his purple robe. Here the twilight was brief and 
darkly blue as it overhung the arched aloes and 
those large palm plants whose broad leaves waved 
not in the least breeze. Far in the mellow distance 
a large star was glittering, and the only sound in 
the air was the shrill whistle of one of the Cape 
field crickets. 

Then began the struggle between moonlight and 
darkness. The leaves of the boughs that were 
clasped above the little river began to be softly 
silvered as the influence of the rising light made it- 
self apparent, and then the highest ridges of the 
hill gave back a flash as the beams shot through 
the air. 

These changes were felt by the girl sitting silently 
beside her father — the changes of the twilight and 

172 


DAIREEN. 


173 


of the moonlight, before the full round shield of 
the orb appeared above the trees, and the white 
beams fell around the broad floating leaves at her 
feet. 

“ Are you tired, Dolly ? ” asked her father. 

“Not in the least, papa; it seems months since I 
was at sea.” 

“ Then you will ride with me for my usual hour? 
I find it suits me better to take an hour’s exercise 
in the cool of the evening.” 

“ Nothing could be lovelier on such an evening,” 
she cried. “ It will complete our day’s happiness. ” 

She hastened to put on her habit while her father 
went round to the stables to give directions to the 
groom regarding the saddling of a certain little 
Arab which had been bought within the week. In 
a short time Standish was left to gaze in admiration 
at the fine seat of the old officer in his saddle, and 
in rapture at the delicately shaped figure of the girl, 
as they trotted down the avenue between those 
strange trees. 

They disappeared among the great leaves; and 
when the sound of their horses’ hoofs had died away, 
Standish, sitting there upon the raised ground in 
front of the house, had his own hour of thought. 
He felt that he had hitherto not accomplished much 
in his career of labour. He had had an idea that 
there were a good many of the elements of heroism 
in joining as he did the vessel in which the girl was 
going abroad. Visions of wrecks, of fires, of fallings 
overboard, nay of pirates even, had floated before his 
mind, with himself as the only one near to save the 
girl from each threatening calamity. He had heard 
of such things taking place daily, and he was pre- 
pared to risk himself for her sake, and to account 
himself happy if the chance of protecting her should 
occur. 

But so soon as he had been a few days at sea 


174 


DAIREEN. 


and had found that such a thing as danger was not 
even hinted at any more than it would be in a draw- 
ing-room on shore — when, in fact, he saw how like 
a drawing-room on shore was the quarter-deck of 
the steamer, he began to be disappointed. Daireen 
was surrounded by friends who would, if there might 
chance to be the least appearance of danger, resent 
his undertaking to save the girl whom he loved 
with every thought of his soul. He would not, 
in fact, be permitted to play the part of the hero 
that his imagination had marked out for himself. 

Yes, he felt that the heroic elements in his posi- 
tion aboard the steamer had somehow dwindled down 
to a minimum; and now he had been so weak 
as to allow himself to be induced to come out to 
live, even though only for a short time, at this house. 
He felt that his acceptance of the sisterly friendship 
of the girl was making it daily more impossible for 
him to kneel at her feet, as he meant one day to 
do, and beg of her to accept of some heroic work 
done on her behalf. 

“ She is worthy of all that a man could do with 
all his soul,” Standish cried, as he stood there in 
the moonlight. “ But what can I do for her? What 
can I do for her? Oh, I am the most miserable 
wretch in the whole world! ” 

This was not a very satisfactory conclusion for 
him to come to; but on the whole it did not cause 
him much despondency. In his Irish nature there 
were almost unlimited resources of hope, and it 
would have required a large number of reverses of 
fortune to cast him down utterly. 

While he was trying in vain to make himself feel 
as miserable as he knew his situation demanded 
him to be, Daireen and her father were riding along 
the road that leads from Cape Town to the districts 
of Wynberg and Constantia. They went along 
through the moonlight beneath the splendid avenue 


BAIREEN. 


175 


of Australian oaks at the old Dutch district of 
Rondebosch, and then they turned aside into a narrow 
lane of cactus and prickly-pear which brought them 
to that great sandy plain densely overgrown with 
blossoming heath and gorse called The Flats, along 
which they galloped for some miles. Turning their 
horses into the road once more, they then walked 
them back towards their house at Mowbray. 

Daireen felt that she had never before so enjoyed 
a ride. All was so strange. That hill whose peak 
was once again towering above them; that long 
dark avenue with the myriads of fire-flies sparkling 
amongst the branches; the moonlight that was flooding 
the world outside; and then her companion, her 
father, whose face she had been dreaming over daily 
and nightly. She had never before so enjoyed a ride. 

They had gone some distance through the oak 
avenue when they turned their horses aside at the 
entrance to one of the large vineyards that 
are planted in such neat lines up the sloping 
ground. 

“Well, Dolly, are you satisfied at last?” said 
Colonel Gerald, looking into the girl’s face that the 
moonlight was glorifying, though here and there the 
shadow of a leaf fell upon her. 

“Satisfied! Oh, it is all like a dream,” she said. 
“ A strange dream of a strange place. When I 
think that a month ago I was so different, I feel 
inclined to — to — ask you to kiss me again, to make 
sure I am not dreaming.” 

“ If you are under the impression that you are a 
sleeping beauty, dear, and that you can only be 
roused by that means, I have no objection.” 

“Now I am sure it is all reality,” she said, with 
a little laugh. “Oh, papa, I am so happy. Could 
anything disturb our happiness?” 

Suddenly upon the dark avenue behind them there 
came the faint sound of a horse’s hoof, and then of 


176 


DAIREEN. 


a song sung carelessly through the darkness — one 
she had heard before. 

The singer was evidently approaching on horseback, 
for the last notes were uttered just opposite where 
the girl and her father were standing their horses 
behind the trees at the entrance to the vineyard. 
The singer too seemed to have reined in at this 
point, though of course he could not see either of 
the others, the branches were so close. Daireen 
was mute while that air was being sung, and in 
another instant she became aware of a horse being 
pushed between the trees a few yards from her. 
There was only a small space to pass, so she and 
her father backed their horses round and the motion 
made the stranger start, for he had not perceived 
them before. 

“ I beg you will not move on my account. I did 
not know there was anyone here, or I should not 
have ” 

The light fell upon the girl’s face, and her father 
saw the stranger give another little start. 

“You need not make an apology to us, Mr. 
Markham, ” said Daireen. “We had hidden ourselves, 
I know. Papa, this is Mr. Oswin Markham. How 
odd it is that we should meet here upon the first 
evening of landing ! The Cape is a good deal larger 
than the quarter-deck of the Cardwell Castled' 

“You were a passenger, no doubt, aboard the 
steamer my daughter came out in, Mr. Markham ? ” 
said Colonel Gerald. 

Mr. Markham laughed. 

“ Upon my word I hardly know that I am entitled 
to call myself a passenger, ” he said. “ Can you define 
my position, Miss Gerald? it was something very 
uncertain. I am a castaway— a waif that was picked 
up in a half-drowned condition from a broken mast 
in the Atlantic, and sheltered aboard the hospitable 
vessel.” 


DAIREEN. 


177 


“It is very rarely that a steamer is so fortunate 
as to save a life in that way,” said Colonel Gerald. 
“Sailing vessels have a much better chance.” 

“ To me it seems almost a miracle — a long chain 
of coincidences was necessary for my rescue, and 
yet every link was perfect to the end.” 

“ It is upon threads our lives are constantly 
hanging,” said the colonel, backing his horse upon 
the avenue. “Do you remain long in the colony, 
Mr. Markham? ” he asked, when they were standing 
in a group at a place where the moonlight broke 
through the branches. 

“I think I shall have to remain for some time,” 
he answered. “ Campion tells me I must not think 
of going to England until the violence of the winter 
there is past.” 

“Then we shall doubtless have the pleasure of 
meeting you frequently. We have a cottage at 
Mowbray, where we would be delighted to see you. 
By the way, Mrs. Crawford and a few of my other 
old friends are coming out to dine with us to-morrow, 
my daughter and myself would be greatly pleased 
if you could join us.” 

“You are exceedingly kind,” said Mr. Markham. 
“I need scarcely say how happy I shall be.” 

“ Our little circle on board the good old ship is 
not yet to be dispersed, you see, Mr. Markham,” 
said Daireen with a laugh. “For once again, at 
any rate, we shall be all together.” 

“For once again,” he repeated as he raised his 
hat, the girl’s horse and her father’s having turned. 
“P'or once again, till when good-bye. Miss Gerald.” 

“ Good-bye, Mr. Markham, ” said the colonel. 
“ By the way, we dine early, I should have told 
you — seven. ” 

Markham watched them ride along the avenue 
and reappear in the moonlight space beyond. Then 
he dropped the bridle on his horse’s neck and 


I7S 


DAIREEN. 


listlessly let the animal nibble at the leaves on the 
side of the road for a long time. At last he seemed 
to start into consciousness of everything. He 
gathered up the bridle and brought the horse back 
to the avenue. 

“It is Fate or Providence or God this time,” he 
muttered, as if for his own satisfaction. “ I have had 
no part in the matter; I have not so much as raised 
my hand for this, and yet it has come.” 

He walked his horse back to Cape Town in the 
moonlight. 

“ I don’t think you mentioned this Mr. Markham’s 
name to me, Dolly,” said Colonel Gerald, as they 
returned to Mowbray. 

“I don’t think I did, papa; but you see he had 
gone ashore when I came on deck to you this 
morning, and I did not suppose we should ever meet 
again. ” 

“ I hope you do not object to my asking him to 
dinner, dear?” 

“I object, papa? Oh, no, no; I never felt so 
glad at anything. He does not talk affectedly like 
Mr. Glaston, nor cleverly like Mr. Harwood, so I 
prefer him to either of them. And then, think of 
his being for four days tossing about the Atlantic 
upon that wreck.” 

“All very good reasons for asking him to dine 
to-morrow,” said her father. “Now suppose we try 
a trot.” 

“ I would rather walk if it is the same to you, 
papa, ” she said. “ I don’t feel equal to another trot 
now.” 

“Why, surely, you have not allowed yourself to 
become tired, Daireen ? Yes, my dear, you look 
it. I should have remembered that you are just off 
the sea. We shall go gently home and you will get 
a good sleep.” 

They did go very gently, and silently too, and 


DAIREEN. 


179 


in a short time Daireen was lying on her bed, 
thinking not of the strange moonlight wonders of 
her ride, but of that five minutes spent upon the 
avenue of Australian oaks down which had echoed 
that song. 

It seemed that poor Mrs. Crawford was destined 
to have enigmas of the most various sorts thrust 
upon her for her solution; at any rate she regarded 
the presence of Mr. Oswin Markham at Colonel 
Crawford^s little dinner the next evening as a 
question as puzzling as the mysterious appearance of 
the young man called Standish Macnamara. She, 
however, chatted with Mr. Markham as usual, and 
learned that he also was going to a certain garden 
party which was to be held at Government House 
in a few days. 

“And you will come too, Daireen?” she said. 
“ You must come, for Mr. Glaston has been so good 
as to promise to exhibit in one of the rooms a few 
of his pictures he spoke to us about. How kind 
of him, isn’t it, to try and educate the taste of the 
colony? The bishop has not yet arrived at the 
Cape, but Mr. Glaston says he will wait for him 
for a fortnight.” 

“For a fortnight? Such filial devotion will no 
doubt bring its own reward,” said Mr. Harwood. 


CHAPTER XXn. 

Being remiss. 

Most generous and free from all contriving. 

A heart imfortified, 

An understanding simple and unschooled. 

A violet in the youth of primy nature. 

O *tis most sweet 

When in one line two crafts directly meet 

Soft, — let me see: — 

We’ll make a solemn wager on your cunnings. — Hamlet. 

The band of the gallant Bayonetteers was making 
the calm air of Government House gardens melo- 
dious with the strains of an entrancing German 
valse not more than a year old, which had convulsed 
society at Cape Town when introduced a few weeks 
previously; for society at Cape Town, like society 
everywhere else, professes to understand everything 
artistic, even to the delicacies of German dance 
music. The evening was soft and sunny, while the 
effect of a very warm day drawing near its close 
was to be seen ever5rwhere around. The broad 
leaves of the feathery plants were hanging dry and 
languid across the walks, and the grass was becoming 
as tawny as that on the Lion’s Head — that strangely 
curved hill beside Table Mountain. The giant aloes 
and plantains were, however, defiant of the heat, and 
spread their leaves out mightily as ever. 

z8o 


DAIREEN. 


l8l 


The gardens are always charming in the southern 
spring, but never so charming -as when their avenues 
are crowded with coolly dressed girls of moderate 
degrees of prettiness whose voices are dancing to 
the melody of a German valse not more than a Yea.r 
old. - How charming it is to discuss all the absorbing 
colonial questions — such as how the beautiful Van 
der Veldt is looking this evening; and if Miss 
Van Schmidt’s papa, who belongs to the Legislative 
Council and is consequently a voice in the British 
Empire, has really carried out his threat of writing 
home to the War Office to demand the dismissal 
of that young Mr. Westbury from the corps of 
Royal Engineers on account of his conduct towards 
Miss Van Schmidt; or perhaps a question of art, 
such as how the general’s daughters contrive to 
have Paris bonnets several days previous to the 
arrival of the mail with the patterns; or a question 
of diplomacy, such as whether His Excellency’s 
private secretary will see his way to making that 
proposal to the second daughter of one of the 
Supreme Court judges. There is no colony in the 
world so devoted to discussions of this nature as 
the Cape, and in no part of the colony may a dis- 
cussion be carried out with more spirit tlian in the 
gardens around Government House. 

But upon the afternoon of this garden party there 
was an unusual display of colonial beauty and 
colonial young men — the two are never found in 
conjunction — and English delicacy and Dutch £-au- 
cherie^ for the spring had been unusually damp, 
and this was the first garden party day that was 
declared perfect. There were, of course, numbers 
of officers, the military with their wives — such as 
had wives —and the naval with other people’s wives, 
each branch of the service grumbling at the other’s 
luck in this respect And then there were sundry 
civil servants of exalted rank — commissioners of 


82 


DAIREEN. 


newly founded districts, their wives and daughters, 
and a brace of good colonial bishops also, with 
their partners in their mission labours, none of whom 
objected to Waldteufel or Gungl. 

On the large lawn in front of the balcony at the 
Residence there was a good deal of tennis being 
played, and upon the tables laid out on the balcony 
there were a good many transactions in the way 
of brandy and soda carried on by special com- 
missioners and field officers, whose prerogative it 
was to discuss the attitude of the belligerent Kafir 
chief who, it was supposed, intended to give as 
much trouble as he could without inconvenience to 
himself And then from shady places all around 
the avenues came the sounds of girlish laughter and 
the glimmer of muslin. Behind this scene the great 
flat-faced, flat-roofed mountain stood dark and bold, 
and through it all the band of the Bayonetteers 
brayed out that inspiriting valse. 

Major Crawford was, in consequence of the 
importance of his mission to the colony, pointed out 
to the semi-Dutch legislators, each of whom had 
much to tell him on the burning boot question; and 
Mr. Harwood was, naturally enough, regarded with 
interest, for the sounds of the “ Dominant Trumpeter ” 
go forth into all the ends of the earth. Mr. Glaston, 
too, as son of the Metropolitan of the Salamander 
Archipelago, was entitled to every token of respectful 
admiration, even if he had not in the fulness of 
his heart allowed a few of his pictures to be hung 
in one of the reception rooms. But perhaps Daireen 
Gerald had more eyes fixed upon her than anyone 
in the gardens. 

Everyone knew that she was the daughter of 
Colonel Gerald who had just been gazetted Governor- 
General of the new colony of the Castaway Islands, 
but why she had come out to the Cape no one 
seemed to know exactly. Many romances were 



vShe was dressed perfectly, according to Mr. Glaston’s theories. 
—Page 183. 


ay 



"'‘j 




t 


I 






i 


:.. t 

FT^i 

rw V. 

• ’r 








•v 




« I 


^ • 


>*.!*&■ : '..•■ > ,iX' '■ ‘I 


. ^ 


I 






» I 





^ r- 


n' ‘ 


• ’ .* 


^1 






1 


■■r«iS'^ ^ V'- 



•»s 


I, ? 


J » 








!*':■ ■■■#• V 


m ' < 

V*.**: 


•'ji 


■ii,* 




' 4 * 













t $ 


9 



I * 


r 


■> . 





» 


w 

u * 


•*. 


* .-< 






^ ^ l 7 v. s^C-w"- 

'*■ ' ■•■:i5l#’ .V ■ 

1^;’ ’/ " - ‘•:4e 3IC * ■ 'h ^ . • ' • - ' ^ r- 





.- ^-:. ■! -1 

m 

• # _ 




iJ % • • -> * >. ■ . 

■: .'s.xt^.jii.- V 

- -a.l’iiP'i, tf 





DAIREEN. 


183 

related to account for her appearance, the Cape 
Town people possessing almost unlimited resources 
in the way of romance making; but as no pains 
were taken to bring about a coincidence of stories, 
it was impossible to say who was in the right. 

She was dressed so perfectly according to Mr. 
Glaston’s theories of harmony, that he could not 
refrain from congratulating her — or rather com- 
mending her — upon her good taste, though it struck 
Daireen that there was not much good taste in his 
commendation. He remained by her side for some 
time, lamenting the degradation of the colony in being 
shut out from Art — the only world worth living in, as 
he said ; then Daireen found herself with some other 
people to whom she had been presented, and who 
were anxious to present her to some relations. 

The girfs dress was looked at by most of the 
colonial young ladies, and her figure was gazed at 
by all of the men, until it was generally understood 
that to have made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald 
was a happiness gained. 

“ My dear George, ” said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel 
Gerald, when she had contrived to draw him to her 
side at a secluded part of the gardens, — “ My dear 
George, she is far more of a success than even I 
myself anticipated. Why, the darling child is the 
centre of all attraction. ” 

“ Poor little Dolly ! that is not a very dizzy point 
to reach at the Cape, is it, Kate?” 

“ Now don't be provoking, George. We all know 
well enough, of course, that it is here the same as 
at any place else : the latest arrival has the charm of 
novelty. But it is not so in Daireen’s case. I can 
see at once — and I am sure you will give me 
credit for some power of perception in these things 
— that she has created a genuine impression. George, 
you may depend on her receiving particular atten- 
tion on sides. ” The lady's voice lowered confiden- 


184 


DAIREEN. 


tially until her last sentence had in it something of 
the tone of a revelation. 

“ That will .make the time pass in a rather lively 
way for Dolly, ” said George, pulling his long iron- 
gray moustache as he smiled thoughtfully, looking 
into Mrs. Crawford’s face. 

“Now, George, you must fully recognize the 
great responsibility resting with you — I certainly 
feel how much devolves upon myself, being as 
I am, her father’s oldest friend in the colony, and 
having had the dear child in my care during the 
voyage.” 

“ Nothing could be stronger than your claims. ” 

“ Then is it not natural that I should feel anxious 
about her, George? This is not India, you must 
remember. ” 

“No, no,” said the colonel thoughtfully; “it’s not 
India.” He was trying to grasp the exact thread 
of reasoning his old friend was using in her argu- 
ment. He could not at once see why the fact of 
Cape Town not being situated in the Empire of 
Hindustan should cause one’s responsibilities to increase 
in severity. 

“You know what I mean, George. In India mar- 
riage is marriage, and a certain good, no matter 
who is concerned in it. It is one’s duty there to 
get a girl married, and there is no blame to be 
attached to one if everything doesn’t turn out 
exactly as one could have wished.” 

“ Ah, yes, exactly, ” said the colonel, beginning to 
comprehend. “But I think you have not much to 
reproach yourself with, Kate; almost every mail 
brought you out an instalment of the youth and 
beauty of home, and I don’t think that one ever 
missed fire — failed to go off, you know.” 

“Well, yes, I may say I was fortunate, George,” 
she replied, with a smile of reflective satisfaction. 
“But this is not India, George; we must be very 


DAIREEN. 


185 

careful. I observed Daireen carefully on the voyage, 
and I can safely say that the dear child has yet 
formed no attachment.” 

“Formed an attachment? You mean — oh, Kate, 
the idea is too absurd, ” said Colonel Gerald. “ Why, 
she is a child — a baby.” 

“ Of course all fathers think such things about 
their girls,” said the lady, with a pitying smile. 
“ They understand their boys well enough, and take 
good care to make them begin to work not a day 
too late, but their girls are all babies. Why, George, 
Daireen must be nearly twenty.” 

Colonel Gerald was thoughtful for some moments. 
“ So she is, ” he said ; “ but she is still quite a 
baby.” 

“ Even so, ” said the lady, “ a baby’s tastes should 
be turned in the right direction. By the way, I 
have been asked frequently who is this young Mr. 
Macnamara who came out to you in such a pecu- 
liar fashion. People are beginning to talk curiously 
about him.” 

“As people at the Cape do about everyone,” said 
the colonel. “Poor Standish might at least have 
escaped criticism.” 

“ I scarcely think so, George, considering how he 
came out.” 

“ Well, it was rather what people who do not 
understand us would call an Irish idea. Poor boy ! ” 

“Who is he, George?” 

“ The son of one of our oldest friends. The 
friendship has existed between his family and mine 
for some hundreds of years.” 

“Why did he come out to the Cape in that 
way?” 

“ My dear Kate, how can I tell you everything? ” 
said the puzzled colonel. “You would not under- 
stand if I were to try and explain to you how this 
Standish Macnamara’s father is a genuine king. 


DAIREEN. 


1 86 

whose civil list unfortunately does not provide for 
the travelling expenses of the members of his family, 
so that the young man thought it well to set out 
as he did.” 

“I hope you are not imposing on me, George. 
Well, I must be satisfied, I suppose. By the way, 
you have not yet been to the room where Mr. 
Glaston’s pictures are hung ; we must not neglect to 
see them. Mr. Glaston told me just now he thought 
Daireen’s taste perfect.” 

“That was very kind of Mr. Glaston.” 

“If you knew him as I do, George — in fact as 
he is known in the most exclusive drawing-rooms 
in London — you would understand how much his 
commendation is worth,” said Mrs. Crawford. 

“ I have no doubt of it. He must come out to 
us some evening to dinner. For his father’s sake I 
owe him some attention, if not for his remark to you 
just now.” 

“I hope you may not forget to ask him,” said 
Mrs. Crawford. “ He is a most remarkable young 
man. Of course he is envied by the less accom- 
plished, and you may hear contradictory reports 
about him. But, believe me, he is looked upon in 
London as the leader of the most fashionable — that 
is — the most — not most learned — no, the most artistic 
set in town. Very exclusive they are, but they 
have done ever so much good — designing dados, you 
know, and writing up the new pomegranate cottage 
wall-paper.” 

“ I am afraid that Mr. Glaston will find my Dutch 
cottage deficient in these elements of decoration,” 
remarked the colonel. 

“I wanted to talk to you about him for a long 
time,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Not knowing how 
you might regard the subject, I did not think it 
well to give him too much encouragement on the 
voyage, George, so that perhaps he may have thought 


DAIREEN. 


187 


me inclined to repel him, Daireen being in my care ; 
but I am sure that all may yet be well. Hush! 
who is it that is laughing so loud? they are coming 
this way. Ah, Mr. Markham and that little Lottie 
Vincent. Good gracious, how long that girl is in 
the field, and how well she wears her age! Doesn’t 
she look quite juvenile?” 

Colonel Gerald could not venture an answer before 
the young lady, who was the eldest daughter of 
the deputy surgeon-general, tripped up to Mrs. 
Crawford, and cried, clasping her strawberry-ice- 
coloured gloves over the elder lady’s plump arm, 

“ Dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have come to you 
in despair to beg your assistance. Promise me that 
you will do all you can to help me.” 

“ If your case is so bad, Lottie, I suppose I must. 
But what am I to do?” 

“You are to make Mr. Markham promise that 
he will take part in our theatricals next month. He 
can act — I know he can act like Irving or Salvini 
or Terry or Mr. Bancroft or some of the others, 
and yet he will not promise to take any part. 
Could anything be more cruel?” 

“Nothing, unless I were to take some part,” said 
Mr. Markham, laughing. 

“Hush, sir,” cried the young lady, stamping her 
shoe upon the ground, and taking care in the 
action to show what a remarkably well-formed foot 
she possessed. 

“ It is cruel of you to refuse a request so offered, 
Mr. Markham, ” said Mrs. Crawford. “ Pray allow 
yourself to be made amenable to reason, and make 
Miss Vincent happy for one evening.” 

“Since you put it as a matter of reason, Mrs. 
Crawford, there is, I fear, no escape forme,” said 
Mr. Markham. 

“Didn’t I talk to you about reason, sir?” 
cried the young lady in very pretty mock anger. 


DAIREEN. 


IB8 

“You talked about it,” said Markham, “just as 
we walked about that centre bed of cactus: we 
didn’t once touch upon it, you know. You talk 
very well about a subject. Miss Vincent.” 

“ Was there ever such impertinence? Mrs. Craw- 
ford, isn’t it dreadful? But we have secured him 
for our cast, and that is enough. You will take 
a dozen tickets of course. Colonel Gerald ? ” 

“I can confidently say the object is most worthy,” 
said Markham. 

“ And he doesn’t know what it is yet,” said 
Lottie. 

“That’s why I can confidently recommend it.” 

“ Now do give me five minutes with Colonel 
Gerald, like a good dear,” cried the young lady to 
Mrs. Crawford. “ I must persuade him. ” 

“We are going to see Mr. Glaston’s pictures,” 
replied Mrs. Crawford. 

“ How delightful ! That is what I have been so 
anxious to do all the afternoon: one feels so delight- 
fully artistic, you know, talking about pictures ; 
and people think one knows all about them. Do 
let us go with you, Mrs. Crawford. I can talk 
to Colonel Gerald while you go on with Mr. 
Markham.” 

“You are a sad little puss,” said Mrs. Crawford, 
shaking her finger at the artless and ingenuous 
maiden; and as she walked on with Mr. Markham 
she could not help remembering how this little puss 
had caused herself to be pretty hardly spoken about 
some ten years before at the Arradambad station in 
the Himalayas. How well she was wearing her age 
to be sure, Mrs. Crawford thought again. It is not 
many young ladies who, after ten years’ campaign- 
ing, can be called sad little pusses ; but Miss Vincent 
still looked quite juvenile — in fact, plus Arahe qu*en 
Arable — more juvenile than a juvenile. Everyone 
knew her and talked of her in various degrees of 


DAIREEN. 


189 

familiarity ; it was generally understood that an 
acquaintanceship of twenty-four hours’ duration was 
sufficient to entitle any field officer to call her by 
the abbreviated form of her first name, while a 
week was the space allowed to subalterns. 


CHAPTER XXm. 


I have heard of your paintings too. 

Hamlet. His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, 
Would make them capable. Do not look upon me. 
Lest . . s what I have to do 
Will want true colour. . , . 

Do you see nothing there? 

Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. 

Hamlet. Why, look you there . . . 

Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal. 

Hamlet. 

“I AM SO glad to be beside some one who can 
tell me all I want to know,” said Lottie, looking up 
to Colonel Gerald’s bronzed face when Mrs. Craw- 
ford and Markham had walked on. 

“My dear Lottie, you know very well that you 
know as much as I do,” he answered, smiling down 
at her. 

“Oh, Colonel Gerald, how can you say such a 
thing? ” she cried innocently. “You know I am 
always getting into scrapes through my simplicity.” 

“You have managed to get out of a good many 
in your time, my dear. Is it by the same means 
you got out of them, Lottie — your simplicity? ” 

“Oh, you are as amusing as ever,” laughed the 
young thing. “But you must not be hard upon 
poor little me, now that I want to ask you so 
much. Will you tell me, like a dear good colonel — I 
know you can if you choose — what is the mystery 
about this Mr. Markham?” 


dairsen. 


19 


“Mystery? I don’t hear of any mystery about 
him.” 

“Why, all your friends came out in the same 
steamer as he did. They must have told you. 
Everybody here is talking about him. That’s why 
I want him for our theatricals: everyone will come 
to see him.” 

“Well, if the mystery, whatever it may be, 
remains unrevealed up to the night of the per- 
formance, you will have a house all the more 
crowded.” 

“But I want to know all about it for myself. 
Is it really true that he had fallen overboard from 
another ship, and was picked up after being several 
weeks at sea?” 

“You would be justified in calling that a mystery, 
at any rate,” said Colonel Gerald. 

“ That is what some people here are saying, I 
can assure you,” she cried quickly. “ Others say that 
he was merely taken aboard the steamer at St. 
Helena, after having been wrecked; but that is 
far too unromantic.” 

“Oh, yes, far too unromantic.” 

“ Then you do know the truth ? Oh, please 
tell it to me. I have always said I was sure it 
was true that a girl on the steamer saw him 
floating on the horizon with an unusually powerful 
pilot-glass. ” 

“Rather mysterious for a fellow to be floating 
about on the horizon with a pilot-glass, Lottie.” 

“ What a shame to make fun of me, especially 
as our performance is in the cause of charity, and 
I want Mr. Markham’s name to be the particular 
attraction! Do tell me if he was picked up at 
sea.” 

“I believe he was.” 

“ How really lovely ! Floating about on a wreck 
and only restored after great difficulty! Our room 


192 


BAIREEN. 


should be filled to the doors. But what I can’t 
understand, Colonel Gerald, is where he gets the 
money he lives on here. He could not have had 
much with him when he was picked up. But 
people say he is very rich.” 

“ Then no doubt people have been well informed, 
my dear. But all I know is that this Mr. Markham 
was on his way from New Zealand, or perhaps 
Australia, and his vessel having foundered, he was 
picked up by the Cardwell Castle and brought 
to the Cape. He had a note for a few hundred 
pounds in his pocket which he told me he got 
cashed here without any difficulty, and he is going 
to England in a short time. Here we are at the 
room where these pictures are said to be hanging. 
Be sure you keep up the mystery, Lottie.” 

“ Ah, you have had your little chat, I hope, ” said 
Mrs. Crawford, waiting at the door of Government 
House until Colonel Gerald and Lottie had come up. 

“ A delightful little chat, as all mine with Colonel 
Gerald are,” said Lottie, passing over to Mr. Markham. 
“Are you going inside to see the pictures, Mrs. 
Crawford ? ” 

“Not just yet, my dear; we must find Miss 
Gerald,” said Mrs. Crawford, who had no particular 
wish to remain in close attachment to Miss Vincent 
for the rest of the evening. 

“ Mr. Markham and I are going in,” said Lottie. 
“I do so dote upon pictures, and Mr. Markham 
can explain them, I know; so au revolr” 

She kissed the dainty tips of her gloves and 
passed up to the small piazza at the House, near 
where Major Crawford and some of the old Indians 
were sitting drinking their brandy and soda and 
revolving many memories. 

“Let us not go in for a while, Mr. Markham,” 
she said. “Let us stay here and watch them all. 
Isn’t it delightfully cool here? Now tell me all 


DAIREEN. 


193 


that that dreadful old Mrs. Crawford was saying to 
you about me.” 

“Upon my word,” said Markham smiling, “it is 
delightfully cool up here.” 

“ I know she said ever so much ; she does so 
about everyone who has at any time run against 
her and her designs. She's always designing.” 

“And you ran against her, you think?” 

“Of course I did,” cried Lottie, turning round and 
giving an almost indignant look at the man beside 
her. “ And she has been saying nasty things about 
me ever since; only of course they have never 
injured me, as people get to understand her in a 
very short time. But what did she say just now?” 

“Nothing, I can assure you, that was not very 
much in favour of the theatrical idea I have just 
promised to work out with you. Miss Vincent: she 
told me you were a— a capital actress.” 

“She said that, did she? Spiteful old creature! 
Just see how she is all smiles and friendliness to 
Mr. Harwood because she thinks he will say some- 
thing about her husband’s appointment and the 
satisfaction it is giving in the colony in his next 
letter to the ‘Trumpeter.' That is Colonel Gerald's 
daughter with them now, is it not?” 

“Yes, that is Miss Gerald,” answered Markham, 
looking across the lawn to where Daireen was 
standing with Mr. Harwood and some of the tennis- 
players as Mrs. Crawford and her companion came 
up with Mr. Glaston, whom they had discovered 
and of whom the lady had taken possession. The 
girl was standing beneath the broad leaf of a plantain 
with the red sunlight falling behind her and light- 
ing up the deep ravine of the mountain beyond. 
Oswin thought he had never before seen her look 
so girlishly lovely. 

“ How people here do run after every novelty 1 ” 
remarked Miss Vincent, who was certainly aware 

13 


194 


DAIREEN. 


that she herself was by no means a novelty. “Just 
because they never happen to have seen that girl 
before, they mob her to death. Isn’t it too bad? 
What extremes they go to in their delight at having 
found something new ! I actually heard a gentleman 
say to-day that he thought Miss Gerald’s face perfect. 
Could anything be more absurd, when one has only 
to see her complexion to know that it is extremely 
defective, while her nose is — are you going in to 
the pictures so soon?” 

“Well, I think so,” said Markham. “If we don’t 
see them now it will be too dark presently.” 

“ Why, I had no idea you were such a devotee 
of Art, ” she cried. “ Just let me speak to papa for 
a moment and I will submit myself to your guidance. ” 
And she tripped away to where the surgeon-general 
was smoking among the old Indians. 

Oswin Markham waited at the side of the balcony, 
and then Mrs. Crawford with her entire party came 
up, Mr. Glaston following with Daireen, who said, 
just as she was beside Mr. Markham, 

“We are all going to view the pictures, Mr. 
Markham; won’t you join us?” 

“I am only waiting for Miss Vincent,” he an- 
swered. Then Daireen and her companion passed 
into the room containing the four works meant to 
be illustrative of that conception of a subject, and 
of the only true method of its treatment, which 
were the characteristics assigned to themselves by 
a certain section of painters with whom Mr. Glaston 
enjoyed communion. 

The pictures had, by Mr. Glaston’s direction, been 
hung in what would strike an uncultured mind 
as an eccentric fashion. But, of course, there 
was a method in it. Each painting was placed 
obliquely at a window; the natural view which was 
to be obtained at a glance outside being supposed 
to have a powerful influence upon the mind of a 


DAIREEN. 


195 


Spectator in preparing him to receive the delicate 
symbolism of each work. 

“One of our theories is, that a painting is not 
merely an imitation of a part of nature, but that it 
becomes, if perfectly worked out in its symbolism, 
a pure creation of Nature herself,” said Mr. Glaston 
airily, as he condescended to explain his method of 
arrangement to his immediate circle. There were 
only a few people in the room when Mrs. Craw- 
ford’s party entered. Mr. Glaston knew, of course, 
that Harwood was there, but he felt that he could, 
with these pictures about him, defy all the criticism 
of the opposing school. 

“It is a beautiful idea,” said Mrs. Crawford; “is it 
not. Colonel Gerald?” 

“ Capital idea,” said the colonel. 

“Rubbish! ” whispered Harwood to Markham, who 
entered at this moment with Lottie Vincent. 

“ The absurdity — the wickedness — of hanging pic- 
tures in the popular fashion is apparent to every 
thoughtful mind, ” said the prophet of Art, “ Putting 
pictures of different subjects in a row and asking 
the public to admire them is something too terrible 
to think about. It is the act of a nation of bar- 
barians. To hold a concert and perform at the 
same instant selections from Verdi, Wagner, Liszt, 
and the Oxford music-hall would be as consistent 
with the principles of Art as these Gallery exhi- 
bitions of pictures.” 

“How delightful!” cried Lottie, lifting up her ten- 
buttoned gloves in true enthusiasm. “I have often 
thought exactly what he says, only I have never 
had courage to express myself.” 

“It needs a good deal of courage,* remarked 
Harwood. 

“What a pity it is that people will continue to 
be stupid! ” said Mrs. Crawford. “For my own 
part, I shall never enter an Academy exhibition. I 


196 


PAIREEN. 


am ashamed to confess that I have never missed a 
season when I had the chance, but now I see the 
folly of it all. What a lovely scene that is in the 
small frame! Is it not, Daireen?” 

“ Ah, you perceive the Idea? ” said Mr. Glaston 
as the girl and Mrs. Crawford stood before a small 
picture of a man and a woman in a pomegranate 
grove in a gray light, the man being in the act of 
plucking the fruit. “ You understand, of course, the 
symbolism of the pomegranate and the early dawn- 
light among the boughs ? ” 

“It is a darling picture,” said Lottie effusively. 

“ I never saw such carelessness in drawing before, ” 
said Harwood so soon as Mr. Glaston and his 
friends had passed on to another work. “ The co- 
lour is pretty fair, but the drawing is ruffianly.” 

“Ah, you terrible critic!” cried Lottie. “You 
spoil one’s enjoyment of the pictures. But I quite 
agree with you; they are fearful daubs,” she added 
in a whisper. “ Let us stay here and listen to the 
gushing of that absurd old woman; we need not 
be in the back row in looking at that wonderful 
work they are crowding about.” 

“ I am not particularly anxious to stand either in 
the front or the second row,” said Harwood. “The 
pavement in the picture is simply an atrocity. I 
saw the thing before.” 

So Harwood, Lottie, and Markham stood together 
at one of the open windows, through which were 
borne the brazen strains of the distant band, and 
the faint sounds of the laughter of the lawn-tennis 
players, and the growls of the old Indians on the 
balcony. Daireen and the rest of the party had gone 
to the furthest window from which at an oblique 
angle one of the pictures was placed. Miss Vin- 
cent and Harwood soon found themselves chatting 
briskly ; but Markham stood leaning against the 
wall behind them, with his eyes fixed upon Daireen, 


DAIREEN. 


197 


who was looking in a puzzled way at the picture. 
Markham "wondered what was the element that 
called for this puzzled — almost troubled — expression 
upon her face, but he could not see anything of 
the work. 

^ How very fine, is it not, George ? ” said Mrs. 
Crawford to Colonel Gerald as they stood back to 
gaze upon the painting. 

“I think ril go out and have a smoke,” replied 
the colonel smiling. 

Mrs. Crawford cast a reproachful glance towards 
him as he turned away, but Mr. Glaston seemed 
oblivious to every remark. 

“Is it not wonderful, Daireen?” whispered Mrs. 
Crawford to the girl. 

“Yes,” said Daireen, “I think it is — wonderful,” 
and the expression upon her face became more trou- 
bled still. 

The picture was composed of a single figure — a 
half-naked, dark-skinned female with large limbs 
and wild, black hair. She was standing in a high- 
roofed oriental kiosk upon a faintly-coloured pave- 
ment, gazing with fierce eyes upon a decoration of 
the wall, representing a battle in which elephants 
and dromedaries were taking part. Through one 
of the arched windows of the building a purple hill 
with a touch of sunset crimson upon its ridge was 
seen, while the Evening Star blazed through the 
dark blue of the higher heaven. 

Daireen looked into the picture, and when she 
saw the wild face of the woman she gave a shud- 
der, though she scarcely knew why. 

“ All but the face, ” she said. “ It is too terrible 
— there is nothing of a woman about it.” 

“ My dear child, that is the chief wonder of the 
picture, ” said Mr. Glaston. “You recognize the sub- 
ject, of course?” 

“It might be Cleopatra,” said Daireen dubiously. 


DAIREEN. 


198 

“ Oh, hush, hush! never think of such a thing 
again,” said Mr. Glaston, with an expression that 
would have meant horror if it had not been tem- 
pered with pity. “ Cleopatra is vulgar — vulgar — 
popular. That is Aholibah.” 

“You remember, of course, my dear,” said Mrs. 
Crawford; “she is a young woman in the Bible — 
one of the old parts — Daniel or Job or Hezekiah, 
you know. She was a Jewess or an Egyptian or 
something of that sort, like Judith, the young per- 
son who drove a nail into somebody’s brain — they 
were always doing disagreeable things in those 
days. I can’t recollect exactly what this dreadful 
creature did, but I -thiak it was somehow connected 
with the head of John the Baptist.” 

“ Oh, no, no,” said Daireen, still keeping her eyes 
fixed upon the face of the figure as though it had 
fascinated her. 

“Aholibah, the painter has called it,” said Mr. 
Glaston. “But it is the symbolism of the picture 
that is most valuable. Wonderful thought that is 
of the star — Astarte, you know — shedding the light 
by which the woman views the picture of one of 
her lovers.” 

“ Oh I ” exclaimed Mrs. Crawford in a shocked way, 
forgetting for the moment that they were talking 
on Art. Then she recollected herself and added 
apologetically, “ They were dreadful young women, 
you know, dear.” 

“Marvellous passion there is in that face,” contin- 
ued the young man. “ It contains a lifetime of 
thought — of suffering. It is a poem — it is a pre- 
cious composition of intricate harmonies.” 

“ Intricate! I should think it is,” said Harwood to 
Lottie, in the distant window. 

“ Hush ! ” cried the girl, “ the high-priest is begin- 
ning to speak.” 

“ The picture is, perhaps, the only one in existence 


DAIREEN. 


199 


that may be said to be the direct result of the three 
arts as they are termed, though we prefer to think 
that there is not the least distinction between the 
methods of painting, poetry, and music,” said Mr. 
Glaston. “ I chanced to drop into the studio of my 
friend who painted this, and I found him in a sad 
state of despondency. He had nearly all of the 
details of the picture filled in; the figure was as 
perfect as it is at present — all except the expres- 
sion of the face. have been thinking about it for 
days,’ said the poor fellow, and I could see that 
his face was haggard with suffering; ‘but only now 
and again has the expression I want passed across 
my mind, and I have been unable to catch it.’ I 
looked at the unfinished picture,” continued Mr. 
Glaston, “and I saw what he wanted. I stood be- 
fore the picture in silence for some time, and then 
I composed and repeated a sonnet which I fancied 
contained the missing expression of passion. He 
sprang up and seized my hand, and his face bright- 
ened with happiness: I had given him the absent 
idea, and I left him painting enthusiastically. A 
few days after, however, I got a line from him 
entreating me to come to him. I was by his side 
in an hour, and I found him in his former state of 
despondency. ‘It has passed away again,’ he said, 
‘and I want you to repeat your sonnet.’ Unfor- 
tunately I had forgotten every line of the sonnet, 
and when I told him so he was in agony. But I 
begged of him not to despair. I brought the pic- 
ture and placed it before me on a piano. I looked 
at it and composed an impromptu that I thought 
suggested the exact passion he wanted for the face. 
The painter stood listening with his head bowed 
down to his hands. When I ended he caught up 
the picture. ‘I see it all clearly,’ he cried; ‘you 
have saved me — you have saved the picture.’ Two 
days afterwards he sent it to me finished as it is now.” 


200 


DAIREEN. 


“Wonderful! is it not, Daireen?*’ said Mrs. Craw- 
ford, as the girl turned away after a little pause. 

“The face,” said Daireen gently; “I don’t want 
ever to see it again. Let us look at something 
else.” 

They turned away to the next picture ; but 
INIarkham, who had been observing the girl’s face, 
and had noticed that little shudder come over her, 
felt strangely interested in the painting, whatever 
it might be, that had produced such an impression 
upon her. He determined to go unobserved over 
to the window where the work was hanging so 
soon as everyone should have left it. 

“It requires real cleverness to compose such a 
story as that of Mr. Glaston’s,” said Lottie Vincent 
to Mr. Harwood. 

“ It sounded to me all along like a clever bit of 
satire, and I daresay it was told to him as such,” 
said Harwood. “It only needed him to complete 
the nonsense by introducing another of the fine arts 
in the working out of that wonderfully volatile 
expression. ” 

“ Which is that ? ” said Lottie ; “ do tell me, like a 
good fellow,” and she laid the persuasive finger of 
a glove upon his arm. 

“Certainly. I will finish the story for you,” said 
Harwood, giving the least little imitation of the 
lordly manner of Mr. Glaston. “ Yes, my friend 
the painter sent a telegram to me a few years after 
I had performed that impromptu, and I was by his 
side in an hour. I found him at least twenty years 
older in appearance, and he was searching with a 
lighted candle in every corner of the studio for that 
expression of passion which had once more disappeared. 
What could I do? I had exhausted the auxiliaries 
of poetry and music, but fortunately another art 
remained to me; you have heard of the poetry of 
motion ? In an instant I had mounted the table and 


DAIREEN. 


201 


had gone through a breakdown of the most aesthetic 
design, when I saw his face lighten — his gray hairs 
turned once more to black — long, artistic, oil}^ black. 
‘I have found it,’ he cried, seizing the hearthbrush 
and dipping it into the paint just as I completed the 
final attitude: it was found — but — what is the matter. 
Miss Vincent?” 

“ Look! ” she whispered. “ Look at Mr. Markham.” 

“ Good heavens I ” cried Harwood, starting up, 
“is he going to fall? No, he has steadied himself 
by the window. I thought he was beside us.” 

“ He went over to the picture a second ago, and 
I saw that pallor come over him,” said Lottie. 

Harwood hastened to where Oswin Markham 
was standing, his white face turned away from 
the picture, and his hand clutching the rail of a 
curtain. 

“ What is the matter, Markham ? ” said Harwood 
quietly. “ Are you faint ? ” 

Markham turned his eyes upon him with a startled 
expression, and a smile that was not a smile came 
upon his face. 

“Faint? yes,” he said. “This room after the 
air. I’ll be all right Don’t make a scene, for 
God’s sake.” 

“ There is no need, ” said Harwood. “ Sit down 
here, and I’ll get you a glass of brandy.” 

“Not here,” said Markham, giving the least little 
side glance towards the picture. “ Not here, but at 
the open window.” 

Harwood helped him over to the open window, and 
he fell into a seat beside it and gazed out at the 
lawn-tennis players, quite regardless of Lottie 
Vincent standing beside him and enquiring how 
he felt. 

In a few minutes Harwood returned with some 
brandy in a glass. 

“Thanks, my dear fellow,” said the other, drink- 


202 


DAIREEN. 


ing it off eagerly. “I feel better now —all right, 
in fact” 

“This, of course, you perceive,” came the voice 
of Mr. Glaston from the group who were engrossed 
over the wonders of the final picture, — “ This is an 
exquisite example of a powerful mind endeavouring 
to subdue the agony of memory. Observe the sym- 
bolism of the grapes and vine leaves.” 

In the warm sunset light outside the band played 
on, and Miss Vincent flitted from group to group 
with the news that this Mr. Markham had added 
to the romance which was already associated with 
his name, by fainting in the room with the pictures. 
She was considerably surprised and mortified to see 
him walking with Miss Gerald to the colonel's 
carriage half an hour afterwards. 

“I assure you,” she said to some one who was 
laughing at her, — “I assure you I saw him fall 
against the window at the side of one of the pictures. 
If he was not in earnest, he will make our theatricals 
a great success, for he must be a splendid actor.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Rightly to be great 
Is not to stir without great argument. 

So much was our love 

We would not imderstand what was most fit. 

She is so conjunctive to my life and soul 
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere^ 

I could not but by her. 

How should I your true love know 
From another one? — Hamlet. 

All was not well with Mr. Standish Macnamara 
in these days. He was still a guest at that pleasant 
little Dutch cottage of Colonel Gerald’s at Mowbray, 
and he received invitations daily to wherever Daireen 
and her father were going. This was certainly all 
that he could have expected to make him feel at 
ease in the strange land ; but somehow he did not feel 
at ease. He made himself extremely pleasant every- 
where he went, and he was soon a general favourite, 
though perhaps the few words Mrs. Crawford now 
and again let fall on the subject of his parentage 
had as large an influence as his own natural charm 
of manner in making the young Irishman popular. 
Ireland was a curious place, most of the people at 
the Cape thought. They had heard of its rebellions 
and of its secret societies, and they had thus formed 
an idea that the island was something like a British 
colony of which the aborigines had hardly been 

203 


204 


DAIREEN. 


subdued. The impression that Standish was the son 
of one of the kings of the land, who, like the Indian 
maharajahs, they believed, were allowed a certain 
revenue and had their titles acknowledged by the 
British Government, was very general; and Standish 
had certainly nothing to complain of as to his 
treatment. But still all was not well with Standish. 

He had received a letter from his father a week 
after his arrival, imploring him to return to the land 
of his sires, for The Macnamara had learned from 
the ancient bard O’Brian, in whom the young man 
had confided, that Standish’s destination was the Cape, 
and so he had been able to write to some address. 
The Macnamara promised to extend his forgiveness to 
his son, and to withdraw his threat of disinheritance, if 
he would return; and he concluded his letter by 
drawing a picture of the desolation of the neigh- 
bourhood owing to the English projectors of a 
railway and a tourists’ hotel having sent a number 
of surveyors to the very woods of Innishdermot to 
measure and plan and form all sorts of evil intentions 
about the region. Under these trying circumstances. 
The Macnamara implored his son to grant him the 
consolation of his society once more. What was 
still more surprising to Standish was the enclosure 
in the letter of an order for a considerable sum of 
money, for he fancied that his father had previously 
exhausted every available system of leverage for 
the raising of money. 

But though it was very sad for Standish to hear 
of the old man sitting desolate beside the lonely 
hearth of Innishdermot castle, he made up his mind 
not to return to his home. He had set out to work 
in the world, and he would work, he said. He 
would break loose from this pleasant life he was at 
present leading, and he would work. Every night 
he made this resolution, though as yet the concrete 
form of the thought as to what sort of work he 


DAIREEN. 


205 


meant to set about had not suggested itself. He 
would work nobly and manfully for her, he swore, 
and he would never tell her of his love until he 
could lay his work at her feet and tell her that it 
had been done all for her. Meantime he had gone 
to that garden party at Government House and to 
several other entertainments, while nearly every day 
he had been riding by the side of Daireen over The 
Flats or along the beautiful road to Wynberg. 

And all the time that Standish was resolving not 
to open his lips in an endeavour to express to 
Daireen all that was in his heart, another man was 
beginning to feel that it would be necessary to take 
some step to reveal himself to the girl. Arthur 
Harwood had been analyzing his own heart every 
day since he had gazed out to the far still ocean from 
the mountain above Funchal with Daireen beside 
him, and now he fancied he knew every thought 
that was in his heart. 

He knew that he had been obliged to deny 
himself in his youth the luxury of love. He had 
been working himself up to his present position by 
his own industry and the use of the brains that he 
felt must be his capital in life, and he knew he 
dared not even think of falling in love. But, when 
he had passed the age of thirty and had made a 
name and a place for himself in the world, he was 
aware that he might let his affections go fetterless ; 
but, alas, it seemed that they had been for too long 
in slavery: they refused to taste the sweets of free- 
dom, and it appeared that his nature had become 
hard and unsympathetic. But it was neither, he 
knew in his own soul, only he had been standing 
out of the world of softness and of sympathy, and 
had built up for himself unconsciously an ideal 
whose elements were various and indefinable, his 
imagination only making it a necessity that not one 
of these elements of his ideal should be possible 


206 


DAIREEN. 


to be found in the nature of any of the women with 
whom he was acquainted and whom he had studied. 

When he had come to know Daireen Gerald — and 
he fancied he had come to know her — he felt that 
he was no longer shut out from the world of love 
with his cold ideal. He had thought of her day by 
day aboard the steamer as he had thought of no 
girl hitherto in his life, and he had waited for her 
to think of him and to become conscious that he 
loved her. Considering that one of the most important 
elements of his vague ideal was a complete and 
absolute unconsciousness of any passion, it was 
scarcely consistent for him now to expect that 
Daireen should ever perceive the feeling of his 
secret heart. 

He had, however, made up his mind to remain 
at the Cape instead of going on to the Castaway 
Islands; and he had written long and interesting 
letters to the newspaper which he represented, on 
the subject of the attitude of the Kafir chief who, 
he heard, had been taking an attitude. Then he 
had had several opportunities of riding the horse 
that Colonel Gerald had placed at his disposal; but 
though he had walked and conversed frequently 
with the daughter of Colonel Gerald, he felt that it 
would be necessary for him to speak more directly 
what he at least fancied was in his heart; so that 
while poor Standish was swearing every night to 
keep his secret, Mr. Harwood was thinking by what 
means he could contrive to reveal himself and find 
out what were the girl’s feelings with regard to 
himself. 

In the firmness of his resolution Standish was 
one afternoon, a few days after the garden party, 
by the side of Daireen on the furthest extremity of 
The Flats, where there was a small wood of pines 
growing in a sandy soil of a glittering whiteness. 
They pulled up their horses here amongst the trees, 


DAIREEN. 


207 


and Daireen looked out at the white plain beyond; 
but poor Standish could only gaze upon her wistful 
face. 

“ I like it, ” she said musingly. “ I like that snow. 
Don't you think it is snow, Standish?” 

“It is exactly the same,” he answered. “I can 
feel a chill pass over me as I look upon it. I 
hate it.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried the girl, “ don't say that when I have 
said I like it.” 

“Why should that matter?” he said sternly, for 
he was feeling his resolution very strong within him. 

She laughed. “Why, indeed? Well, hate it as 
much as you wish, Standish, it won't interfere with 
my loving it, and thinking of how I used to enjoy 
the white winters at home. Then, you know, I 
used to be thinking of places like this — places with 
plants like those aloes that the sun is glittering 
over. ” 

“ And why I hate it, ” said Standish, “ is because 
it puts me in mind of the many wretched winters 
I spent in the miserable idleness of my home. While 
others were allowed some chance of making their 
way in the world — making names for themselves — 
there was I shut up in that gaol. I have lost every 
chance I might have had — everyone is before me in 
the race.” 

“ In what race, Standish? In the race for fame? ” 

“Yes, for fame,” cried Standish; “not that I 
value fame for its own sake,” he added. “No, I 
don't covet it, except that — Daireen, I think there is 
nothing left for me in the world — I am shut out from 
every chance of reaching anything. I was wretched 
at home, but I feel even more wretched here.” 

“ Why should you do that, Standish ? ” she asked, 
turning her eyes upon him. “ I am sure everyone 
here is very kind.” 

“I don't want their kindness, Daireen; it is their 


2o8 


DAIREEN. 


kindness that makes me feel an impostor. What 
right have I to receive their kindness ? Yes, I had 
better take my father’s advice and return by next 
mail. I am useless in the world — it doesn’t want me.” 

“Don’t talk so stupidly — so wickedly,” said the 
girl gravely. “ You are not a coward to set out in 
the world and turn back discouraged even before 
you have got anything to discourage you.” 

“I am no coward,” he said; “but everything has 
been too hard for me. I am a fool — a wretched fool 
to have set my heart — my soul, upon an object I 
can never reach.” 

“ What do you mean, Standish ? You haven’t set 
your heart upon anything that you may not gain in 
time. You will, I know, if you have courage, gain 
a good and noble name for yourself.” 

“ Of what use would it be to me, Daireen ? It 
would only be a mockery to me — a bitter mockery 
unless — Oh, Daireen, it must come, you have forced 
it from me — I will tell you and then leave you for 
ever — Daireen, I don’t care for anything in the world 
but to have you love me — a little, Daireen. What 
would a great name be to me unless ” 

“Hush, Standish,” said the girl with her face 
flushed, and almost angry. “ Do not ever speak to me 
like this again. Why should all our good friendship 
come to an end?” She had softened towards the 
close of her sentence, and she was now looking at 
him in tenderness. 

“You have forced me to speak,” he said. “God 
knows how I have struggled to hold my secret deep 
down in my heart — how I have sworn to hold it, 
but it forced itself out — we are not masters of 
ourselves, Daireen. Now tell me to leave you — I 
am prepared for it, for my dream, I knew, was 
bound to vanish at a touch.” 

“ Considering that I am four miles from home and 
in a wood, I cannot tell you to do that,” she said 


DAIREEN. 


209 


with a laugh, for all her anger had been driven 
off. “Besides that, I like you far too well to turn 
you away; but, Standish, you must never talk so 
to me again. Now, let us return.” 

“ I know I must not, because I am a beggar, ” 
he said almost fiercely. “You will love some one 
who has had a chance of making a name for himself 
in the world. I have had no chance.” 

“Standish, I am waiting for you to return.” 

“ Yes, I have seen them sitting beside you aboard 
the steamer, ” continued vStandish bitterly, “ and I 
knew well how it would be.” He looked at her 
passionately. “ Yes, I knew it — you have loved one 
of them.” 

Daireen’s face flushed fearfully and then became 
deathly pale as she looked at him. She did not 
utter a word, but looked into his face steadily with 
an expression he had never before seen upon hers. 
He became frightened. 

“ Daireen — dearest Daireen, forgive me, ” he cried. 
“ I am a fool — no, worse — I don’t know what I say. 
Daireen, pity me and forgive me. Don’t look at 
me that way, for God’s sake. Speak to me.” 

“ Come away, ” she said gently. “ Come away, 
Standish. ” 

“ But tell me you forgive me, Daireen, ” he pleaded. 

“ Come away, ” she said. 

She turned her horse’s head towards the track 
which was made through that fine white sand and 
went out from amongst the pines. He followed her 
with a troubled mind, and they rode side by side 
over the long flats of heath until they had almost 
reached the lane of cactus leading to Mowbray. 
In a few minutes they would be at the Dutch 
cottage, and yet they had not interchanged a word. 
Standish could not endure the silence any longer. 
He pulled up his horse suddenly. 

“Daireen,” he said, “I have been a fool — a 


210 


DAIREEN. 


wicked fool, to talk to you as I did. I cannot 
go on until you say you forgive me.” 

Then she turned round and smiled on him, holding 
out her hand. 

“We are very foolish, Standish,” she said. “We 
are both very foolish. Why should I think anything 
of what you said? We are still good friends, 
Standish.” 

“ God bless you ! ” he cried, seizing her hand 
fervently. “I will not make myself a fool again.” 

“And I,” said the girl, “I will not be a fool 
again. ” 

So they rode back together. But though Standish 
had received forgiveness he was by no means 
satisfied with the girl’s manner. There was an 
expression that he could not easily read in that 
smile she had given him. He had meant to be very 
bitter towards her, but he had not expected her to 
place him in a position requiring forgiveness. She 
had forgiven him, it was true, but then that smile 
of hers — what was that sad wistful expression upon 
her face? He could not tell, but he felt that on 
the whole he had not gained much by the resolutions 
he had made night after night. He was inclined 
to be dissatisfied with the result of his morning’s 
ride, nor was this feeling perceptibly decreased by 
seeing beneath one of the broad-leaved trees that 
surrounded the cottage the figure of Mr. Arthur 
Harwood by the side of Colonel Gerald. 

Harwood came forward as Daireen reined up on 
the avenue. 

“I have come to say good-bye to you,” he said, 
looking up to her face. 

“Good-bye?” she answered. “Why, you haven’t 
said good-morning yet.” 

Mr. Harwood was a clever man and he knew 
it; but his faculty for reading what was passing in 
another person’s mind did not bring* him happiness 


DAIREEN. 


21 1 


always. He had made use of what he meant to 
be a test sentence to Daireen, and the result of his 
observation of its effect was not wholly pleasant to 
him. He had hoped for a little flush — a little trem- 
bling of the hand, but neither had come; a smile was 
on her face, and the pulses of the hand she held 
out to him were unruffled. He knew then that the 
time had not yet come for him to reveal himself. 

“ But why should you say good-bye ? ” she asked 
after she had greeted him. 

“ Well, perhaps I should only say au revoir, though, 
upon my word, the state of the colony is becoming 
so critical that one going up country should always 
say good-bye. Yes, my duties call me to leave all 
this pleasant society. Miss Gerald. I am going among 
the Zulus for a while.” 

“ I have every confidence in you, Mr. Harwood, ” 
she said. “You will return in safety. We shall miss 
you greatly, but I know how much the people at 
home will be benefited by hearing the result of 
your visit; so we resign ourselves to your absence. 
But indeed we shall miss you.” 

“ And if a treacherous assagai should transfix me, 
I trust my fate will draw a single tear,” he said. 

There was a laugh as Daireen rode round to 
dismount and Harwood went in to lunch. It was 
a very pleasant chat he felt, but he was as much dis- 
satisfied with her laugh as Standish had been with 
her smile. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Sure, He that made us with such large discourse^ 

Looking before and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To fust in us imused. 

Yet do I believe 

The origin and commencement of his griel 
Sprung from neglected love. 

... he repulsed — a short tale to make— 

Fell into a sadness, then into a fast. 

Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness. 

Thence to a lightness; and by this declension 
Into the madness. — Hamlet, 

The very pleasantness of the lunch Harwood had 
at the Dutch cottage made his visit seem more 
unsatisfactory to him. He had come up to the girl 
with that sentence which should surely have sounded 
pathetic even though spoken with indifference. He 
was beside her to say good-bye. He had given her 
to understand that he was going amongst the dangers 
of a disturbed part of the country, but the name of 
the barbarous nation had not made her cheek pale. 
It was well enough for himself to make light of 
his adventurous undertaking, but he did not think 
that her smiles in telling him that she would miss 
him were altogether becoming. 

Yes, as he rode towards Cape Town he felt that 
the time had not yet come for him to reveal himself 
to Daireen Gerald. He would have to be patient, 
as he had been for years. 


2Zt 


DAIREEN. 


213 


Thus far he had found out negatively how Daireen 
felt towards himself: she liked him, he knew, but 
only as most women liked him, because he could 
tell them in an agreeable way things that they 
wanted to know — because he had travelled everywhere 
and had become distinguished. He was not a 
conceited man, but he knew exactly how he stood 
in the estimation of people, and it was bitter for 
him to reflect that he did not stand differently with 
regard to Miss Gerald. But he had not attempted 
to discover what were Daireen’s feelings respecting 
anyone else. He was well aware that Mrs. Crawford 
was anxious to throw Mr. Glaston in the way of 
the girl as much as possible; but he felt that it 
would take a long time for Mr. Glaston to make 
up his mind to sacrifice himself at Daireen’s feet, 
and Daireen was far too sensible to be imposed upon 
by his artistic flourishes. As for this young Mr. 
Standish Macnamara, Harwood saw at once that 
Daireen regarded him with a friendliness that 
precluded the possibility of love, so he did not fear 
the occupation of the girl’s heart by Standish. But 
when Harwood began to think of Oswin Markham 
— he heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs behind him, 
and Oswin Markham himself trotted up, looking 
dusty and fatigued. 

“I thought I should know your animal,” said 
Markham, “ and I made an effort to overtake you, 
though I meant to go easily into the town.” 

Harwood looked at him and then at his horse. 
“You seem as if you owed yourself a little ease,” 
he said. “ You must have done- a good deal in the 
way of riding, judging from your appearance.” 

“A great deal too much,” replied Markham. “I 
have been on the saddle since breakfast.” 

“ You have been out every morning for the past 
three days before I have left my room. I was 
quite surprised when I heard it, after the evidence 


214 


DAIREEN. 


you gave at the garden party of your weakness.” 

“ Of my weakness, yes,” said Markham, with a little 
laugh. “It was wretchedly weak to allow myself 
to be affected by the change from the open air to 
that room, but it felt stifling to me.” 

“ I didn’t feel the difference to be anything con- 
siderable, ” said Harwood ; “ so the fact of your being 
overcome by it proves that you are not in a fit state 
to be playing with your constitution. Where did 
you ride to-day?” 

“Where? Upon my word I have not the remotest 
idea,” said Markham. “I took the road out to 
Simon’s Bay, but I pulled up at a beach on the 
nearer side of it, and remained there for a good 
while.” 

“ Nothing could be worse than riding about in 
this aimless sort of way. Here you are completely 
knocked up now, as you have been for the past 
three evenings. Upon my word, you seem indifferent 
as to whether or not you ever leave the colony alive. 
You are simply trifling with yourself.” 

“You are right, I suppose,” said Markham wearily. 
“ But what is a fellow to do in Cape Town ? One 
can’t remain inactive beyond a certain time.” 

“ It is only within the past three days you have 
taken up this roving notion, ” said Harwood. “ It is 
in fact only since that Government House affair.” 
Markham turned and looked at him eagerly for a 
moment. “ Yes, since your weakness became ap- 
parent to yourself, you have seemed bound to prove 
your strength to the furthest. But you are push- 
ing it too far, my boy. You’ll find out your mistake. ” 

“Perhaps so,” laughed the other. “Perhaps so. 
By the way, is it true that you are going up country, 
Harwood ?” 

“ Quite true. The fact is that affairs are becoming 
critical with regard to our relations with the Zulus, 
and unless I am greatly mistaken, this colony will 


DAIREEN. 


215 


be the centre of interest before many months have 
passed. ” 

“There is nothing I should like better than to 
go up with you, Harwood.” 

Harwood shook his head. “You are not strong 
enough, my boy,” he said. 

There was a pause before Markham said slowly: 

“No, I am not strong enough.” 

Then they rode into Cape Town together, and 
dismounted at their hotel ; and, certainly, as he 
walked up the stairs to his room, Oswin Markham 
looked anything but strong enough to undertake a 
journey into the Veldt. Doctor Campion would 
probably have spoken unkindly to him had he seen 
him now, haggard and weary, with his day spent 
on an exposed road beneath a hot sun. 

“He is anything but strong enough,” said Har- 
wood to himself as he watched the other man ; and 
then he recollected the tone in which Markham had 
repeated those words, “I am not strong enough.” 
Was it possible, he asked himself, that Markham 
meant that his strength of purpose was not suffi- 
ciently great ? He thought over this question for some 
time, and the result of his reflection was to make 
him wish that he had not thought the conduct of 
that defiant chief of such importance as demanded 
the personal observation of the representative of the 
“ Dominant Trumpeter.” He felt that he would 
like to search out the origin of the weakness of 
Mr. Oswin Markham. 

But all the time these people were thinking their 
thoughts and making their resolutions upon various 
subjects, Mr. Algernon Glaston was remaining in 
the settled calm of artistic rectitude. He was await- 
ing with patience the arrival of his father from the 
Salamander Archipelago, though he had given the 
prelate of that interesting group to understand that 
circumstances would render it impossible for his son 


2i6 


DAIREEN. 


to remain longer than a certain period at the Cape, 
so that if he desired the communion of his society 
it would be necessary to allow the mission work 
among the Salamanders to take care of itself. For 
Mr. Glaston was by no means unaware of the sacri- 
fice he was in the habit of making annually for the 
sake of passing a few weeks with his father in a 
country far removed from all artistic centres. The 
Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of 
the Salamander Archipelago had it several times 
urged upon him that his son was a marvel of filial 
duty for undertaking this annual journey, so that 
he, no doubt, felt convinced of the fact ; and though 
this visit added materially to the expenses of his 
son’s mode of life, which, of course, were defrayed 
by the bishop, yet the bishop felt that this addition 
was, after all, trifling compared with the value of 
the sentiment of filial affection embodied in the annual 
visit to the Cape. 

Mr. Glaston had allowed his father a margin of 
three weeks for any impediments that might arise 
to prevent his leaving the Salamanders, but a longer 
space he could not, he assured his father, remain 
awaiting his arrival from the sunny islands of his 
see. Meantime he was dining out night after night 
with his friends at the Cape, and taking daily drives 
and horse-exercise for the benefit of his health. 
Upon the evening when Harwood and Markham 
entered the hotel together, Mr. Glaston was just 
departing to join a dinner-party which was to 
assemble at the house of a certain judge, and as 
Harwood was also to be a guest, he was compelled 
to dress hastily. 

Oswin Markham was not, however, aware of the 
existence of the hospitable judge, so he remained in 
the hotel. He was tired almost to a point of pros- 
tration after his long aimless ride, but a bath and 
a dinner revived him, and after drinking his coffee 


DAIREEN. 


217 


he threw himself upon a sofa and slept for some 
hours. When he awoke it was dark, and then 
lighting a cigar he went out to the balcony that 
ran along the upper windows, and seated himself 
in the cool air that came landwards from the sea. 

He watched the soldiers in white uniform crossing 
the square; he saw the Malay population who had 
been making a holiday, returning to their quarter 
of the town, the men with their broad conical straw 
hats, the women with marvellously coloured shawls; 
he saw the coolies carrying their burdens, and the 
Hottentots and the Kafirs and all the races blended 
in the motley population of Cape Town. He glanced 
listlessly at all, thinking his own thoughts undisturbed 
by any incongruity of tongues or of races beneath 
him, and he was only awakened from the reverie 
into which he had fallen by the opening of one of 
the windows near him and the appearance on the 
balcony of Algernon Glaston in his dinner dress 
and smoking a choice cigar. 

The generous wine of the generous judge had 
made Mr. Glaston particularly courteous, for he drew 
his chair almost by the side of Markham’s and 
enquired after his health. 

“ Harwood was at that place to-night, ” he said, 
“ and he mentioned that you were killing yourself. 
Just like these newspaper fellows to exaggerate 
fearfully for the sake of making a sensation. You 
are all right now, I think. ” 

“ Quite right, ” said Markham. “ I don’t feel exactly 
like an elephant for vigour, but you know what it is 
to feel strong without having any particular strength. 
I am that way. ” 

“ Dreadfully brutal people I met to-night, ” contin- 
ued Mr. Glaston reflectively. “Sort of people 
Harwood could get on with. Talking actually about 
some wretched savage — some Zulu chief or other 
from whom they expect great things ; as if the action 


2i8 


DAIREEN. 


of a ruffianly barbarian could affect anyone. It was 
quite disgusting talk. I certainly would have come 
away at once only I was lucky enough to get by 
the side of a girl who seems to know something 
of Art — a Miss Vincent — she is quite fresh and 
enthusiastic on the subject — quite a child indeed. ” 

Markham thought it prudent to light a fresh cigar 
from the end of the one he had smoked, at the in- 
terval left by Mr. Glaston for his comment, so that 
a vague "indeed” was all that came through his 
closed lips. 

“ Yes, she seems rather a tractable sort of little 
thing. By the way, she mentioned something about 
your having become faint at Government House the 
other day, before you had seen all my pictures.” 

“Ah, yes,” said Markham. “The change from 
the open air to that room.” 

“ Ah, of course. Miss Vincent seems to understand 
something of the meaning of the pictures. She was 
particularly interested in one of them, which, curiously 
enough, is the most wonderful of the collection. 
Did you study them all?” 

“ No, not all; the fact was, that unfortunate weak- 
ness of mine interfered with my scrutiny,” said 
Markham. “ But the single glance I had at one 
of the pictures convinced me that it was a most 
unusual work. I felt greatly interested in it.” 

“That was the Aholibah, no doubt.” 

“Yes, I heard your description of how it came 
to be painted.” 

“ Ah, but that referred only to the marvellous 
expression of the face — so saturate — so devoured— 
with passion. You saw how Miss Gerald turned 
away from it with a shudder?” 

“Why did she do that?” said Markham. 

“ Heaven knows,” said Glaston, with a little sneer. 

“Heaven knows,” said Markham, after a pause 
and without any sneer. 


DAIREEN. 


2ig 


“ She could not understand it,” continued Glaston. 
“All that that face means cannot be apprehended 
in a glance. It has a significance of its own — it is 
a symbol of a passion that withers like a fire — a 
passion that can destroy utterly all the beauty of 
a life that might have been intense with beauty. 
You are not going away, are you?” 

Markham had risen from his seat and turned away 
his head, grasping the rail of the balcony. It was 
some moments before he started and looked round 
at the other man. “I beg your pardon,” he said; 
“ I’m not going away, I am greatly interested. 
Yes, I caught a glimpse of the expression of the 
face.” 

“It is a miracle of power,” continued Glaston. 
“ Miss Gerald felt, but she could not understand why 
she should feel, its power.” 

There was a long pause, during which Markham 
stared blankly across the square, and the other leant 
back in his chair and watched the curling of his 
cigar clouds through the still air. From the garrison 
at the castle there came to them the sound of a 
bugle-call. 

“ I am greatly interested in that picture,” said 
Markham at length. “ I should like to know all the 
details of its working out.” 

“The expression of the face ” 

“ Ah, I know all of that. I mean the scene — that 
hill seen through the arch — the pavement of the 
oriental apartment — the — the figure — how did the 
painter bring them together?” 

“ That is of little consequence in the study of the 
elements of the symbolism,” said Mr. Glaston. 

“Yes, of course it is; but stiU I should like to 
know. ” 

“I really never thought of putting any question 
to the painter about these matters, ” replied Glaston. 
“He had travelled in the East, and the kiosk was 


220 


DAIREEN. 


amongst his sketches; as for the model of the figure, 
if I do not mistake, I saw the study for the face 
in an old portfolio of his he brought firom Sicily.” 

“Ah, indeed.” 

“But these are mere accidents in the production 
of the picture. The symbolism is the picture.” 

Again there was a pause, and the chatter of a 
couple of Malays in the street became louder, and 
then fainter, as the speakers drew near and passed 
away. 

“Glaston,” said Markham at length, “did you 
remove the pictures from Government House?” 

“ They are in one of my rooms, ” said Glaston. 

“Would you think it a piece of idle curiosity if 
I were to step upstairs and take a look at that 
particular work?” 

“You could not see it by lamplight You can 
study them all in the morning.” 

“ But I feel in the mood just now, and you know 
how much depends upon the mood.” 

“ My room is open, ” said Glaston. “ But the idea 
that has possessed you is absurd.” 

“ I daresay, I daresay, but I have become interested 
in all that you have told me; I must try and — 
and understand the symbolism.” 

He left the balcony before Mr. Glaston had made 
up his mind as to whether there was a touch of 
sarcasm in his voice uttering the final sentence. 

“Not worse than the rest of the uneducated 
world,” murmured the Art prophet condescendingly. 

But in Mr. Glaston’s private room upstairs Oswin 
Markham was standing holding a lighted lamp up 
to that interesting picture and before that wonderful 
symbolic expression upon the face of the figure; 
the rest of the room was in darkness. He looked 
up to the face that the lamplight gloated over. The 
remainder of the picture was full of reflections of 
the light. 


DAIREEN. 


221 


“ A power that can destroy utterly all the beauty 
of a life,” he said, repeating- the analysis of Mr. 
Glaston. He continued looking at it before he 
repeated another of that gentleman’s sentences — “ She 
felt, but could not understand, its power.” He laid 
the lamp on the table and walked over to the 
darkened window and gazed out. But once more 
he returned to the picture. “A passion that can 
destroy utterly all the beauty of life, ” he said again. 
“Utterly! that is a lie! ” He remained with his eyes 
upon the picture for some moments, then he lifted 
the lamp and went to the door. At the door he 
stopped, glanced at the picture and laughed. 

In the Volsunga Saga there is an account of how 
a jealous woman listens outside the chamber where 
a man whom she once loved is being murdered in 
his wife’s arms; hearing the cry of the wife in the 
chamber the woman at the door laughs. A man 
beside her says, “ Thou dost not laugh because thy 
heart is made glad, or why moves that pallor upon 
thy face?” 

Oswin Markham left the room and thanked Mr. 
Glaston for having gratified his whim. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


, , . What he spake, though it lacked form a Kttle, 

Was not like madness. There’s something in his soul 
O’er which his melancholy sits on brood. 

Purpose is but the slave to memory. 

Most necessary ’tis that we forget. — Hamlet, 

The long level rays of the sun that was setting 
in crimson splendour were touching the bright leaves 
of the silver-fir grove on one side of the ravine 
traversing the slope of the great peaked hill which 
makes the highest point of Table Mountain, but the 
other side was shadowy. The flat face* of the precipice 
beneath the long ridge of the mountain was full of 
fantastic gleams of red in its many crevices, and 
far away a thin waterfall seemed a shimmering band 
of satin floating downwards through a dark bed of 
rocks. Table Bay was lying silent and with hardly 
a sparkle upon its ripples from where the outline 
of Robbin Island was seen at one arm of its crescent 
to the white sand of the opposite shore. The 
vineyards of the lower slope, beneath which the 
red road crawled, were dim and colourless, for the 
sunset bands had passed away from them and flared 
only upon the higher slopes. 

Upon the summit of the ridge of the silver-fir 
ravine Daireen Gerald sat looking out to where the 
sun was losing itself among the ridges of the distant 
kloof, and at her feet was Oswin Markham. Behind 
them rose the rocks of the Peak with their dark 


222 


DAIREEN. 


223 


green herbage. Beneath them the soft rustle of a 
songless bird was heard through the foliage. 

But it remains to be told how those two persons 
came to be watching together the phenomenon of 
sunset from the slope. 

It was Mrs. Crawford who had upon the very 
day after the departure of Arthur Harwood organized 
one of those little luncheon parties which are so 
easily organized and give promise of pleasures so 
abundant. She had expressed to Mr. Harwood the 
grief she felt at his being compelled by duty to 
depart from the midst of their circle, just as she 
had said to Mr. Markham how bowed down she 
had been at the reflection of his leaving the 
steamer at St. Helena; and Harwood had thanked 
her for ’her kind expressions, and made a mental 
resolve that he would say something sarcastic regarding 
the Army Boot Commission in his next communi- 
cation to the “Dominant Trumpeter.” But the 
hearing of the gun of the mail steamer that was to 
convey the special correspondent to Natal was the 
pleasantest sensation Mrs. Crawford had experienced 
for long. She had been very anxious on Harwood’s 
account for some time. She did not by any means think 
highly of the arrangement which had been made by 
Colonel Gerald to secure for one of his horses an 
amount of exercise by allowing Mr. Harwood to ride 
it ; for she was well aware that Mr. Harwood would 
think it quite within the line of his duty to exercise 
the animal at times when Miss Gerald would be 
riding out She knew that most girls liked Mr. 
Harwood, and whatever might be Mr. Harwood’s 
feelings towards the race that so complimented him, 
she could not doubt that he admired to a perilous 
point the daughter of Colonel Gerald. If, then, the 
girl would return his feeling what would become 
of Mrs. Crawford’s hopes for Mr. Glaston? 

It was the constant reflection upon this question 


224 


DAIREEN. 


that caused the sound of the mail gun to fall grate- 
fully upon the ears of the major’s wife. Harwood 
was to be away for more than a month at any rate, 
and in a month much might be accomplished, not 
merely by a special correspondent, but by a lady 
with a resolute mind and a strategical training. So 
she had set her mind to work, and without delay 
had organized what gave promise of being a delight- 
ful little lunch, issuing half-a-dozen invitations only 
three days in advance. 

Mr. Algernon Glaston had, after some persuasion, 
promised to join the party. Colonel Gerald and 
his daughter expressed the happiness they would 
have at being present, and Mr. Standish Macnamara 
felt certain that nothing could interfere with his 
delight. Then there were the two daughters of a 
member of the Legislative Council who were reported 
to look with fond eyes upon the son of one of the 
justices of the Supreme Court, a young gentleman 
who was also invited. Lastly, by what Mrs. Craw- 
ford considered a stroke of real constructive ability, 
Mr. Oswin Markham and Miss Lottie Vincent were 
also begged to allow themselves to be added to the 
number of the party. Mrs. Crawford disliked Lottie, 
but that was no reason why Lottie should not 
exercise the tactics Mrs. Crawford knew she pos- 
sessed, to take care of Mr. Oswin Markham for the 
day. They would have much to talk about regard- 
ing the projected dramatic entertainment of the 
young lady, so that Mr. Glaston should be left soli- 
tary in that delightful listless after-space of lunch, 
unless indeed — and the contingency was, it must be 
confessed, suggested to the lady — Miss Gerald 
might chance to remain behind the rest of the party; 
in that case it would not seem beyond the bounds 
of possibility that the weight of Mr. Glaston’s lone- 
liness would be endurable. 

Everything had been carried out with that perfect 


DAIREEN. 


225 


skill which can be gained only by experience. The 
party had driven from Mowbray for a considerable 
way up the hill. The hampers had been unpacked 
and the lunch partaken of in a shady nook which 
was supposed to be free from the venomous reptiles 
that make picnics somewhat risky enjoyments in 
sunny lands ; and then the young people had trooped 
away to gather Venus-hair ferns at the waterfall, 
or silver leaves from the grove, or bronze-green 
lizards, or some others of the offspring of nature 
which have come into existence solely to meet the 
requirements of collectors. Mr. Glaston and Daireen 
followed more leisurely, and Mrs. Crawford’s heart 
was happy. The sun would be setting in an hour, 
she reflected, and she had great confidence in the 
effect of fine sunsets upon the hearts of lovers — 
nay, upon the raw material that might after a time 
develop into the hearts of lovers. She was quite 
satisfied seeing the young people depart, for she 
was not aware how much more pleasant than Oswin 
Markham Lottie Vincent had found Mr. Glaston at 
that judge’s dinner-party a few evenings previous, nor 
how much more plastic than Miss Gerald Mr. Glaston 
had found Lottie Vincent upon the same occasion. 

Mrs. Crawford did not think it possible that Lottie 
could be so clever, even if she had had the inclination, 
as to effect the separation of the party as it had 
been arranged. But Lottie had by a little manoeuvre 
waited at the head of the ravine until Mr. Glaston 
and Daireen had come up, and then she had got into 
conversation with Mr. Glaston upon a subject that 
was a blank to the others, so that they had walked 
quietly on together until that pleasant space at the 
head of the ravine was reached. There Daireen had 
seated herself to watch the west become crimson 
wdth sunset, and at her feet Oswin had cast himself 
to watch her face. 

Had Mrs. Crawford been aware of this, she would 

15 


226 


DAIREEN. 


scarcely perhaps have been so pleasant to her 
friend Colonel Gerald, or to her husband far down 
on the slope. 

It was very silent at the head of that ravine. 
The delicate splash of the water that trickled through 
the rocks far away was distinctly heard. The rosy 
bands that had been about the edges of the silver leaves 
had passed off. Daireen’s face was at last left in 
shadow, and she turned to watch the rays move 
upwards, until soon only the dark Peak was enwound 
in the red light that made its forehead like the brows 
of an ancient Bacchanal encircled with a rose-wreath. 
Then quickly the red dwindled away, until only a 
single rose-leaf was upon the highest point; an 
instant more and it had passed, leaving the hill dark 
and grim in outline against the pale blue. 

Then succeeded that time of silent conflict between 
light and darkness — a time of silence and of wonder. 

Upon the slope of the Peak it was silent enough. 
The girrs eyes went out across the shadowy plain 
below to where the water was shining in its own 
gray light, but she uttered not a word. The man 
leant his head upon his hand as he looked up to 
her face. 

“ What is the * Ave’ you are breathing to the 
sunset. Miss Gerald? ” he said at length, and she 
gave a little start and looked at him. “What is 
the vesper hymn your heart has been singing all 
this time ? ” 

She laughed. “No hymn, no song.” 

“I saw it upon your face,” he said. “I saw its 
melody in your eyes ; and yet — yet I cannot under- 
stand it — I am too gross to be able to translate it. 
I suppose if a man had sensitive hearing the wind 
upon the blades of grass would make good music 
to him, but most people are dull to everything but 
the rolling of barrels and such-like music.” 

“I had not even a musical thought,” said the 



What is the ‘Ave’ you are breathing to the sunset Page 226. 


•v ^vTl 
* #! 

» 

V 


• * « 


I 


f 




# 





4 


I? 


» 


4 


• I 


0 


f 


\ 


» 


f 


>1 


9 


4 


% 

U 

I I 

* 

\ 


\ 


% 


\ 


I 

I « 


» 


» 


j 


V 



I- 

t 



« 





s. 





J 




I 


j 


• • 

\ 


1 


k 

t 

-» 


• A 


■I 


I 


* 





r 






% 


c 


« 



« « 


« 





i 


t 

£ 



£i « 


DAIREEN. 


227 


girl. “ I am afraid that if all I thought were trans- 
lated into words, the result would be a jumble : 
you know what that means.” 

“Yes. Heaven is a jumble, isn’t it? A bit of 
wonderful blue here, and a shapeless cloud there — 
a few faint breaths of music floating about a place 
of green, and an odour of a field of flowers. Yes, 
all dreams are jumbles.” 

“And I was dreaming?” she said. “Yes, I 
daresay my confusion of thought without a single 
idea may be called by courtesy a dream.” 

“ And now have you awakened?” 

“ Dreams must break and dissolve some time, I 
suppose, Mr. Markham.” 

“They must, they must,” he said. “1 wonder 
when will my awaking come.” 

“Have you a dream?” she asked, with a laugh. 

“ I am living one, ” he answered. 

“Living one?” 

“Living one. My life has become a dream to 
me. How am I beside you? How is it possible 
that I could be beside you? Either of two things 
must be a dream — either my past life is a dream, 
or I am living one in this life.” 

“ Is there so vast a difference between them?” she 
asked, looking at him. His eyes were turned away 
from her. 

“Vast? Vast?” he repeated musingly. Then he 
rose to his feet and looked out oceanwards. “ I 
don’t know what is vast,” he said. Then he looked 
down to her. “Miss Gerald, I don’t believe that 
my recollection of my past is in the least correct. 
My memory is a falsehood utterly. For it is quite 
impossible that this body of mine — this soul of mine — 
could have passed through such a change as I must 
have passed through if my memory has got anything 
of truth in it. My God! my God! The recollections 
that come to me are, I know, impossible.” 


228 


DAIREEN. 


“I don’t understand you, Mr. Markham,” said 
Daireen. 

Once more he threw himself on the short tawny 
herbage beside her. 

“ Have you not heard of men being dragged back 
when they have taken a step beyond the barrier 
that hangs between life and death — men who have 
had one foot within the territory of death?” 

“I have heard of that. ” 

“And you know it is not the same old life that 
a man leads when he is brought from that dominion 
of death. He begins life anew. He knows nothing 
of the past. He laughs at the faces that were once 
familiar to him; they mean nothing to him. His 
past is dead. Think of me, child. Day by day I 
suffered all the agonies of death and hell, and shall 
I not have granted to me that most righteous gift 
of God? Shall not my past be utterly blotted out? 
Yes, these vague memories that I have are the 
memories of a dream. God has not been so just 
to me as to others, for there are some realities of 
the past still with me I know, and thus I am at 
times led to think it might be possible that all my 
recollections are true — but no, it is impossible — 
utterly impossible. ” Again he leapt to his feet and 
clasped his hands over his head. “ Child — child, if 
you knew all, you would pity me, ” he said, in a tone 
no louder than a whisper. 

She had never heard anything so pitiful before. 
Seeing the agony of the man, and hearing him trying 
to convince himself of that at which his reason re- 
belled, was terribly pitiful to her. She never before 
that moment knew how she felt towards this man 
to whom she had given life. 

“What can I say of comfort to you?” she said. 
“You have all the sympathy of my heart. Why 
will you not ask me to help you? What is my 
pity? 


DAIREEN. 


229 


He knelt beside her. “Be near me, ” he said. 
“ Let me look at you now. Is there not a bond 
between us? — such a bond as binds man to his 
God? You gave me my life as a gift, and it will 
be a true life now. God had no pity for me, but 
you have more than given me your pity. The life 
you have given me is better than the life given me 
by God. ” 

“ Do not say that, ” she said. “ Do not think that 
I have given you anything. It is your God who 
has changed you through those days of terrible 
suffering. ” 

“ Yes, the suffering is God’s gift,” he cried bitterly. 
“ Torture of days and nights, and then not utter 
forgetfulness. After passing through the barrier of 
death, I am denied the blessings that should come 
with death.” 

“ Why should you wish to forget anything of the 
past?” she asked. “Has everything been so very 
terrible to you? ” 

“ Terrible ? ” he said, clasping his hands over one 
of his knees and gazing out to the conflict of purple 
and shell-pink in the west. “No, nothing was 
terrible. I am no Corsair with a hundred romantic 
crimes to give me so much remorseful agony as 
would enable me to act the part of Count Lara 
with consistency. I am no Lucifer encircled with a 
halo of splendid wickedness. It is only the change 
that has passed over me since I felt myself looking 
at you that gives me this agony of thought. Wasted 
time is my only sin — hours cast aside — years trampled 
upon. I lived for myself as I had a chance — as 
thousands of others do, and it did not seem to me 
anything terrible that I should make my father’s 
days miserable to him. I did not feel myself to 
be the curse to him that I now know myself to 
have been. I was a curse to him. He had only 
myself in the world — no other son, and yet I could 


230 


DAIREEN, 


leave him to die alone — yes, and to die offering me 
his forgiveness — offering it when it was not in my 
power to refuse to accept it. This is the memory that 
God will not take away. Nay, I tell you it seems that 
instead of being blotted out by my days of suffering 
it is but intensified.” 

He had bowed down his face upon his hands as 
he sat there. Her eyes were full of tears of sympathy 
and compassion — she felt with him, and his sufferings 
were hers. 

“I pity you — with all my soul I pity you,” she 
said, laying her hand upon his shoulder. 

He turned and took her hand, holding it not with 
a fervent grasp; but in his face that looked up to 
her tearful eyes there was a passion of love and 
adoration. 

** As a man looks to his God I look to you,” he 
said. “ Be near me that the life you have given 
me may be good. Let me think of you, and the 
dead Past shall bury its dead.” 

What answer could she make to him ? The tears 
continued to come to her eyes as she sat while he 
looked into her face. 

“You know,” she said, — “You know I feel for 
you. You know that I understand you.” 

“Not all, ” he said slowly. “ I am only beginning 
to understand myself; I have never done so in all 
my life hitherto.” 

Then they watched the delicate shadowy dimness 
— not gray, but full of the softest azure — begin to 
swathe the world beneath them. The waters of the 
bay were reflecting the darkening sky, and out over 
the ocean horizon a single star was beginning to 
breathe through the blue. 

“Daireen,” he said at length, “is the bond between 
us one of love?” 

There was no passion in his voice, nor was his 
hand that held hers trembling as he spoke. She 


DAIREEN. 


231 

gave no start at his words, nor did she withdraw 
her hand. Through the silence the splash of the 
waterfall above them was heard clearly. She looked 
at him through the long pause. 

“ I do not know, ” she said. “ I cannot answer 
you yet No, not yet — not yet.” 

“I will not ask,” he said quietly. “Not yet — 
not yet.” And he dropped her hand. 

Then he rose and looked out to that star, which 
was no longer smothered in the splendid blue of 
the heavens, but was glowing in passion until the 
waters beneath caught some of its rays. 

There was a long pause before a voice sounded 
behind them on the slope — the musical voice of 
Miss Lottie Vincent. 

“Did you ever see such a sentimental couple?” 
she cried, raising her hands with a very pretty 
expression of mock astonishment. “Watching the 
twilight as if you were sitting for your portraits, 
while here we have been searching for you over hill 
and dale. Have we not, Mr. Glaston ? ” 

Mr. Glaston thought it unnecessary to corroborate 
a statement made with such evident ingenuousness. 

“Well, your search met with its reward, I hope. 
Miss Vincent,” said Oswin. 

“What, in finding you?” 

“I am not so vain as to fancy it possible that 
you should accept that as a reward. Miss Vincent,” 
he replied. 

The young lady gave him a glance that was 
meant to read his inmost soul. Then she laughed. 

“We must really hasten back to good Mamma 
Crawford,” she said, with a seriousness that seemed 
more frivolous than her frivolity. “Everyone will 
be wondering where we have been.” 

“ Lucky that you will be able to tell them, ” 
remarked Oswin. 

“How?” she said quickly, almost apprehensively. 


232 


DAIREEN. 


“ Why, you know you can say ‘ Over hill, over 
dale,’ and so satisfy even the most sceptical in a 
moment.” 

Miss Lottie made a little pause, then laughed 
again; she did not think it necessary to make any 
reply. 

And so they all went down by the little track 
along the edge of the ravine, and the great Peak 
became darker above them as the twilight dwindled 
into evening. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


I have remembrances of yours— 

• . . words of so sweet breath composed 
As made the things more rich. 

Hamlet, . , . You do remember all the circumstance? 

Horatio. Remember it, my lord? 

Hamlet. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting 
That would not let me sleep. 

. . . poor Ophelia, 

Divided from herself and her fair judgment. 

Sleep rock thy brain, 

And never come mischance. — Hamlet. 

Mrs. Crawford was not in the least apprehensive 
of the safety of the young people who had been 
placed under her care upon this day. She had been 
accustomed in the good old days at Arradambad, 
when the scorching inhabitants had lifted their eyes 
unto the hills, and had fled to their cooling slopes, 
to organize little open-air tiffins for the benefit of 
such young persons as had come out to visit the 
British Empire in the East under the guidance of 
the major’s wife, and the result of her experience 
went to prove that it was quite unnecessary to be in 
the least degree nervous regarding the ultimate 
welfare of the young persons who were making 
collections of the various products of Nature. It was 
much better for the young persons to learn self- 
dependence, she thought, and though many of the 
233 


^34 


DAIREEN. 


maidens under her care had previously, through 
long seasons at Continental watering-places, become 
acquainted with a few of the general points to be 
observed in maintaining a course of self-dependence, 
yet the additional help that came to them from the 
hills was invaluable. 

As Mrs. Crawford now gave a casual glance 
round the descending party, she felt that her skill 
as a tactician was not on the wane. They were 
walking together, and though Lottie was of course 
chatting away as flippantly as ever, yet both Mark- 
ham and Mr. Glaston were very silent, she saw, 
and her conclusions were as rapid as those of an 
accustomed campaigner should be. Mr. Glaston 
had been talking to Daireen in the twilight, so 
that Lottie’s floss-chat was a trouble to him; while 
Oswin Markham was wearied with having listened 
for nearly an hour to her inanities, and was seek- 
ing for the respite of silence. 

“You naughty children, to stray away in that 
fashion!” she cried. “Do you fancy you had per- 
mission to lose yourselves like that?” 

“Did we lose ourselves. Miss Vincent?” said 
Markham. 

“We certainly did not,” said Lottie, and then 
Mrs. Crawford’s first suggestions were confirmed: 
Lottie and Markham spoke of themselves, while 
Daireen and Mr. Glaston were mute. 

“It was very naughty of you,” continued the 
matron. “ Why, in India, if you once dared do 
such a thing ” 

“We should do it for ever,” cried Lottie. “Now, 
you know, my dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have 
been in India, and I have had experience of your 
picnics when we were at the hills — oh, the most 
delightful little affairs — everyone used to look for- 
ward to them.” 

Mrs. Crawford laughed gently as she patted Lottie 


DAIREEN. 


235 


on the cheek. “Ah, they were now and again 
successes, were they not? How I wish Daireen 
had been with us.” 

“ Egad, she would not be with us now, my dear, ** 
said the major. “ Eh, George, what do you say, 
my boy?” 

“For shame, major,” cried Mrs. Crawford, glancing 
towards Lottie. 

“ Eh, what?” said the bewildered Boot Commissioner, 
who meant to be very gallant indeed. It was some 
moments before he perceived how Miss Vincent 
could construe his words, and then he attempted 
an explanation, which made matters worse. “My 
dear, I assure you I never meant that your attrac- 
tions were not — not — ah — most attractive, they were, 
I assure you — you were then most attractive.” 

“And so far from having waned,” said Colonel 
Gerald, “ it would seem that every year has but ” 

“ Why, what on earth is the meaning of this raid 
of compliments on poor little me? ” cried the young 
lady in the most artless manner, glancing from the 
major to the colonel with uplifted hands. 

“ Let us hasten to the carriages, and leave these 
old men to talk their nonsense to each other,” said 
Mrs. Crawford, putting her arm about one of the 
daughters of the member of the Legislative Council 
— a young lady who had found the companionship 
of Stan dish Macnamara quite as pleasant as her 
sister had the guidance of the judge’s son up the 
ravine — and so they descended to where the carriages 
were waiting to take them towards Cape Town. 
Daireen and her father were to walk to the Dutch 
cottage, which was but a short distance away, and 
with them, of course, Standish. 

“Good-bye, my dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, 
embracing Daireen, while the others talked in a 
group. “You are looking pale, dear, but never 
mind; I will drive out and have a long chat with 


236 


DAIREEN. 


you in a couple of days,” she whispered, in a way 
she meant to be particularly impressive. 

Then the carriage went off, and Daireen put her 
hand through her father’s arm, and walked silently 
in the silent evening to the house among the aloes 
and Australian oaks, through whose leaves the fire- 
flies were flitting in myriads. 

“She is a good woman,” said Colonel Gerald. 
“ An exceedingly good woman, only her long 
experience of the sort of girls who used to be sent 
out to her at India has made her rather misjudge 
the race, I think.” 

“ She is so good, ” said Daireen. “ Think of all 
the trouble she was at to-day for our sake.” 

“Yes, for our sake,” laughed her father. “My 
dear Dolly, if you could only know the traditions 
our old station retains of Mrs. Crawford, you would 
think her doubly good. The trouble she has gone 
to for the sake of her friends —her importations by 
every mail — is simply astonishing. But what did 
you think of that charming Miss Van der Veldt you 
took such care of, Standish, my boy? Did you 
make much progress in Cape Dutch ? ” 

But Standish could not answer in the same strain 
of pleasantry. He was thinking too earnestly upon 
the visions his fancy had been conjuring up during 
the entire evening — visions of Mr. Glaston sitting 
by the side of Daireen gazing out to that seductive, 
though by no means uncommon, phenomenon of sunset. 
He had often wished, when at the waterfall gathering 
Venus-hair for Miss Van der Veldt, that he could 
come into possession of the power of Joshua at the 
valley of Gibeon to arrest the descent of the orb. 
The possibly disastrous consequences to the planetary 
system seemed to him but trifling weighed against 
the advantages that would accrue from the fact of 
Mr. Glaston’s being deprived of a source of con- 
versation that was both fruitful and poetical. Standish 


DAIREEN. 


237 


knew well, without having read Wordsworth, that 
the twilight was sovereign of one peaceful hour; 
he had in his mind quite a store of unuttered poetical 
observations upon sunset, and he felt that Mr. Glaston 
might possibly be possessed of similar resources 
which he could draw upon when occasion demanded 
such a display. The thought of Mr. Grlaston sitting 
at the feet of Daireen, and with her drinking in of 
the glory of the west, was agonizing to Stan dish, 
and so he could not enter into Colonel Gerald’s 
pleasantry regarding the attractive daughter of the 
member of the Legislative Council. 

When Daireen had shut the door of her room that 
night and stood alone in the darkness, she found 
the relief that she had been seeking since she had 
come down from the slope of that great Peak — relief 
that could not be found even in the presence of her 
father, who had been everything to her a few days 
before. She found relief in being alone with her 
thoughts in the silence of the night. She drew aside 
the curtains of her window, and looked out up to 
that Peak which was towering amongst the brilliant 
stars. She could know exactly the spot upon the 
edge of the ravine where she had been sitting — 
where they had been sitting. What did it all 
mean, she asked herself. She could not at first 
recollect any of the words she had heard upon that 
slope, she could not even think what they should 
mean, but she had a childlike consciousness of happi- 
ness mixed with fear. What was the mystery that 
had been unfolded to her up there? What was 
the revelation that had been made to her? She 
could not tell. It seemed wonderful to her how 
she could so often have looked up to that hill 
without feeling an3d±Ling of what she now felt gazing 
up to its slope. 

It was all too wonderful for her to understand. 
She had a consciousness of nothing but that all was 


238 


DAIREEN. 


wonderful. She could not remember any of his words 
except those he had last uttered. The bond between 
them — was it of love? How could she tell? What 
did she know of love ? She could not answer him 
when he had spoken to her, nor was she able even 
now, as she stood looking out to those brilliant 
stars that crowned the Peak and studded the dark 
edges of the slope which had been lately overspread 
with the poppy-petals of sunset. It was long before 
she went into her bed, but she had arrived at no 
conclusion to her thoughts — all that had happened 
seemed mysterious; and she knew not whether she 
felt happy beyond all the happiness she had ever 
known, or sad beyond the sadness of any hour of 
her life. Her sleep swallowed up all her perplexity. 

But the instant she awoke in the bright morning 
she went softly over to the window and looked out 
from a comer of her blind to that slope and to the 
place where they had sat. No, it was not a dream. 
There shone the silver leaves and there sparkled 
the waterfall. It was the loveliest hill in the world 
she felt — lovelier even than the purple heather-clad 
Slieve Docas. This was a terrible thought to suggest 
itself to her mind, she felt all the time she was 
dressing, but still it remained with her and refused 
to be shaken o£^ 


CHAPTER XXVm. 


Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice 
. . . her election 
Hath sealed thee for herself. 

Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. 

Yea, from the table of my memory 

I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records . . , 

That youth and observation copied there, 

And thy commandment all alone shall live 
Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven I— 


Colonel Gerald was well aware of Mrs. Crawford’s 
strategical skill, and he had watched its development 
and exercise during the afternoon of that pleasant 
little luncheon party on the hill. He remembered 
what she - had said to him so gravely at the 
garden party at Government House regarding the 
responsibility inseparable from the guardianship of 
Daireen at the Cape, and he knew that Mrs. 
Crawford had in her mind, when she organized the 
party to the hill, such precepts as she had previously 
enunciated. He had watched and admired her 
cleverness in arranging the collecting expeditions, and 
he felt that her detaining of Mr. Glaston as she had 
under some pretext until all the others but Daireen 
had gone up the ravine was a master stroke. But 
at this point Colonel Gerald’s observation ended. 
His imagination had been much less vivid than 
either Mrs. Crawford’s or Standish’s. He did not 
attribute any subtle influence to the setting sun, nor 


240 


DAIREEN. 


did he conjure up any vision of Mr. Glaston sitting 
at the feet of Daireen and uttering words that the 
magic of the sunset glories alone could inspire. 

The fact was that he knew much better than either 
Mrs. Crawford or Standish how his daughter felt 
towards Mr. Glaston, and he was not in the least con- 
cerned in the result of her observation of the glowing 
west by the side of the Art prophet. When Mrs. Craw- 
ford looked narrowly into the girl’s face on her descent 
Colonel Gerald had only laughed; he did not feel 
any distressing weight of responsibility on the sub- 
ject of the guardianship of his daughter, for he had 
not given a single thought to the accident of his 
daughter’s straying up the ravine with Algernon 
Glaston, nor was he impressed by his daughter’s 
behaviour on the day following. They had driven 
out together to pay some visits, and she had been 
even more affectionate to him than usual, and he 
justified Mrs. Crawford’s accusation of his ignorance 
and the ignorance of men generally, by feeling, 
from this fact, more assured that Daireen had passed 
unscathed through the ordeal of sunset and the 
drawing on of twilight on the mount. 

On the next day to that on which they had paid 
their visits, however, Daireen seemed somewhat 
abstracted in her manner, and when her father asked 
her if she would ride with him and Standish to The 
Flats she, for the first time, brought forward a plea 
— the plea of weariness — to be allowed to remain 
at home. 

Her father looked at her, not narrowly nor with the 
least glance of suspicion, only tenderly, as he said, 

“ Certainly, stay at home if you wish, Dolly. You 
must not overtax yourself, or we shall have to get 
a nurse for you.” 

He sat by her side on the chair on the stoep 
of the Dutch cottage and put his arm about her. 
In an instant she had clasped him round the neck 


DAIREEN. 


241 


and had hidden her face upon his shoulder in something 
like hysterical passion. He laughed and patted her 
on the back in mock protest at her treatment. It 
was some time before she unwound her arms and 
he got upon his feet, declaring that he would not 
submit to such rough handling. But all the same 
he saw that her eyes were full of tears; and as he 
rode with Standish over the sandy plain made bright 
with heath, he thought more than once that there 
was something strange in her action and still stranger 
in her tears. 

Standish, however, felt equal to explaining 
everything that seemed unaccountable. He felt 
there could be no doubt that Daireen was wearying 
of these rides with him : he was nothing more than 
a brother — a dull, wearisome, commonplace brother 
to her, while such fellows as Glaston, who had made 
fame for themselves, having been granted the 
opportunity denied to others, were naturally attractive 
to her. Feeling this, Standish once more resolved to 
enter upon that enterprise of work which he felt to be 
ennobling. He would no longer linger here in silken 
folded idleness, he would work — work — work — 
steadfastly, nobly, to win her who was worth all 
the labour of a man’s life. Yes, he would no longer 
remain inactive as he had been, he would — well, he 
lit another cigar and trotted up to the side of 
Colonel Gerald. 

But Daireen, after the departure of her father and 
Standish, continued sitting upon the chair under 
the lovely creeping plants that twined themselves 
around the lattice of the projecting roof. It was 
very cool in the gracious shade while all the world 
outside was red with heat. The broad leaves of the 
plants in the garden were hanging languidly, and 
the great black bees plunged about the mighty 
roses that were bursting into bloom with the first 
breath of the southern summer. From the brink 

16 


242 


DAIREEN. 


of the little river at the bottom of the avenue 
of Australian oaks the chatter of the Hottentot 
washer-women came, and across the intervening 
space of short tawny grass a Malay fruit-man passed, 
carrying his baskets slung on each end of a bamboo 
pole across his shoulders. 

She looked out at the scene — so strange to her 
even after the weeks she had been at this place ; 
all was strange to her — as the thoughts that were 
in her mind. It seemed to her that she had been 
but one day at this place, and yet since she had 
heard the voice of Oswin Markham how great a 
space had passed ! All the days she had been 
here were swallowed up in the interval that had 
elapsed since she had seen this man — since she had 
seen him? Why, there he was before her very 
eyes, standing by the side of his horse with the 
bridle over his arm. There he was watching her 
while she had been thinking her thoughts. 

She stood amongst the blossoms of the trellis, 
white and lovely as a lily in a land of red sun. 
He felt her beauty to be unutterably gracious to 
look upon. He threw his bridle over a branch and 
walked up to her. 

“I have come to say good-bye,* he said as he 
took her hand. 

These were the same words that she had heard 
from Harwood a few days before and that had 
caused her to smile. But now the hand Markham 
was not holding was pressed against her heart. 
Now she knew all. There was no mystery between 
them. She knew why her heart became still after 
beating tumultuously for a few seconds; and he, 
though he had not designed the words with the 
same object that Harwood had, and though he spoke 
them without the same careful observance of their 
effect, in another instant had seen what was in the 
girl’s heart. 


DAIREEN. 


243 


*To say good-bye?** she repeated mechanically. 

“For a time, yes; for a long time it will seem 
to me — for a month.** 

He saw the faint smile that came to her face, 
and how her lips parted as a little sigh of relief 
passed through them. 

“For a month? ** she said, and now she was 
speaking in her own voice, and sitting down. “A 
month is not a long time to say good-bye for, Mr. 
Markham. But I am so sorry that papa is gone 
out for his ride on The Flats.** 

“I am fortunate in finding even you here, then,** 
he said. 

“ Fortunate ! Yes,** she said. “ But where do you 
mean to spend this month?** she continued, feeling 
that he was now nothing more than a visitor. 

“It is very ridiculous — very foolish,’* he replied. 
“ I promised, you know, to act in some entertainment 
Miss Vincent has been getting up, and only yesterday 
her father received orders to proceed to Natal; but 
as all the fellows who had promised her to act are 
in the company of the Bayonetteers that has also 
been ordered off, no difference will be made in her 
arrangements, only that the performance will take 
place at Pieter Maritzburg instead of at Cape Town. 
But she is so unreasonable as to refuse to release 
me from my promise, and I am bound to go with 
them.** 

“It is a compliment to value your services so 
highly, is it not?” 

“ I would be glad to sacrifice all the gratification 
I find from thinking so for the sake of being released. 
She is both absurd and unreasonable.” 

“ So it would certainly strike anyone hearing only 
of this,” said Daireen. “But it will only be for a 
month, and you will see the place.” 

“ I would rather remain seeing this place,” he 
said. “ Seeing that hill above us. ” She flushed as 


244 


DAIREEN. 


though he had told her in those words that he was 
aware of how often she had been looking up to 
that slope since they had been there together. 

There was a long pause, through which the voices 
and laughter of the women at the river-bank were 
heard. 

“ Daireen, ” said the man, who stood up bareheaded 
before her. “Daireen, that hour we sat up there 
upon that slope has changed all my thoughts of life. 
I tell you the life which you restored to me a month 
ago I had ceased to regard as a gift. I had come 
to hope that it would end speedily. You cannot 
know how wretched I was.” 

“ And now ? ” she said, looking up to him. 
“And now?” 

“Now,” he answered. “Now — what can I tell 
you? If I were to be cut off from life and happiness 
now, I should stand before God and say that I 
have had all the happiness that can be joined to 
one life on earth. I have had that one hour wuth 
you, and no God or man can take it from me: I 
have lived that hour and none can make me unlive 
it. I told you I would say no word of love to you 
then, but I have come to say the word now. Child, 
I dared not love you as I was — I had no thought 
worthy to be devoted to loving you. God knows 
how I struggled with all my soul to keep myself 
from doing you the injustice of thinking of you; 
but that hour at your feet has given me something 
of your divine nature, and with that which I have 
caught from you, I can love you. Daireen, will 
you take the love I offer you? It is yours — all yours. ” 

He was not speaking passionately, but when she 
looked up and saw his face haggard with earnest- 
ness she was almost frightened — she would have 
been frightened if she had not loved him as she 
now knew she did. “Speak,” he said, “speak to 
me — one word.” 


DAIREEN. 


245 


“One word?** she repeated. “What one word 
can I say?** 

“Tell me all that is in your heart, Daireen.** 

She looked up to him again. “ All ? *’ she said 
with a little smile. “All? No, I could never tell 
you all. You know a little of it. That is the bond 
between us.’* 

He turned away and actually took a few steps 
from her. On his face was an expression that could 
not easily have been read. But in an instant he 
seemed to recover himself. He took her hand in his. 

“ My darling, ” he said, “ the Past has buried its 
dead. I shall make myself worthy to think of you 
— I swear it to you. You shall have a true man 
to love.** He was almost fierce in his earnestness, 
and her hand that he held was crushed for an instant. 
Then he looked into her face with tenderness. “ How 
have you come to answer my love with yours? ” he 
said almost wonderingly. “ What was there in me 
to make you think of my existence for a single 
instant? ** 

She looked at him. “You were—you” she said, 
offering him the only explanation in her power. It 
had seemed to her easy enough to explain as she 
looked at him. Who else was worth loving with 
this love in all the world, she thought. He alone 
was worthy of all her heart. 

“ My darling, my darling, ” he said, “ I am unworthy 
to have a single thought of you.” 

“You are indeed if you continue talking so,” she 
said with a laugh, for she felt unutterably happy. 

“Then I will not talk so. I will make myself 
worthy to think of you by — by — thinking of you. 
For a month, Daireen, — for a month we can only 
think of each other. It is better that I should not 
see you until the last tatter of my old self is shred 
away.” 

“It cannot be better that you should go away,” 


246 


DAIREEN. 


she said. “ Why should you go away just as we are 
so happy?” 

“ I must go, Daireen, ” he said. “ I must go — 
and now. I would to God I could stay ! but believe 
me, I cannot, darling ; I feel that I must go. ” 

“ Because you made that stupid promise ? ” she said. 

“That promise is nothing. What is such a pro- 
mise to me now? If I had never made it I should 
still go.” 

He was looking down at her as he spoke. “ Do 
not ask me to say anything more. There is nothing 
more to be said. Will you forget me in a month, 
do you think?” 

Was it possible that there was a touch of anxiety 
in the tone of his question? she thought for an in- 
stant. Then she looked into his face and laughed. 

“ God bless you, Daireen ! ” he said tenderly, and 
there was sadness rather than passion in his voice. 
“ God keep you, Daireen! May nothing but happiness 
ever come to you! ” 

He held out his hand to her, and she laid her 
own trustfully in his. 

“Do not say good-bye,” she pleaded. “Think 
that it is only for a month — less than a month, it 
must be. You can surely be back in less than a 
month. ” 

“I can,” he replied; “I can, and I will be back 

within a month, and then God keep you, Daireen, 

for ever ! ” 

He was holding her hand in his own with all 
gentleness. His face was bent down close to hers, 
but he did not kiss her face, only her hand. He 
crushed it to his lips, and then dropped it. She was 
blinded with her tears, so that she did not see him 
hasten away through the avenue of oaks. She did 
not even hear his horse’s tread, nor could she know 
that he had not once turned round to give her a 
farewell look. 


DAIREEN. 


^47 


It was some minutes before she seemed to realize 
that she was alone. She sprang to her feet and 
stood looking out over those deathly silent broad 
leaves, and those immense aloes, that seemed to be 
the plants in a picture of a strange region. She 
heard the laughter of the Hottentot women at the 
river, and the unmusical shriek of a bird in the 
distance. She clasped her hands over her head, 
looking wistfully through the foliage of tho oaks, 
but she did not utter a word. He was gone, she 
knew now, for she felt a loneliness that overwhelmed 
every other feeling. She seemed to be in the 
middle of a bare and joyless land. The splendid shrubs 
that branched before her eyes seemed dead, and the 
silence of the warm scented air was a terror to her. 

He was gone, she knew, and there was nothing 
left for her but this loneliness. She went into her 
room in the cottage and seated herself upon her 
little sofa, hiding her face in her hands, and she 
felt it good to pray for him — for this man whom 
she had come to love, she knew not how. But she 
knew she loved him so that he was a part of her 
own life, and she felt that it would always be so. 
She could scarcely think what her life had been 
before she had seen him. How could she ever have 
fancied that she loved her father before this man 
had taught her what it was to love ? Now she felt 
how dear beyond all thought her father was to her. 
It was not merely love for himself that she had 
learnt from Oswin Markham, it was the power of 
loving truly and perfectly that he had taught her. 

Thus she dreamed until she heard the pleasant 
voice of her friend Mrs. Crawford in the hall. Then 
she rose and wondered if everyone would not notice 
the change that had passed over her. Was it not 
written upon her face? Would not every touch of 
her hand — every word of her voice, betray it? 

Then she lifted up her head and felt equal to 


248 


DAIREEN. 


facing even Mrs. Crawford, and to acknowledging 
all that she believed the acute observation of that 
lady would read from her face as plainly as from 
the page of a book. 

But it seemed that Mrs. Crawford’s eyes were 
heavy this afternoon, for though she looked into 
Daireen’s face and kissed her cheek affectionately, 
she made no accusation. 

“I am lucky in finding you all alone, my dear,” 
she said. “ It is so different ashore from aboard 
ship. I have not really had one good chat with 
you since we landed. George is always in the way, 
or the major, you know — ah, you think I should 
rather say the colonel and Jack, but indeed I think 
of your father only as Lieutenant George. And 
you enjoyed our little lunch on the hill, I hope? 
I thought you looked pale when you came down. 
Was it not a most charming sunset?” 

“It was indeed,” said Daireen, straining her eyes 
to catch a glimpse through the window of the slope 
where the red light had rested. 

“I knew you would enjoy it, my dear. Mr. 
Glaston is such good company — ah, that is, of course, 
to a sympathetic mind. And I don’t think I am 
going too far, Daireen, when I say that I am sure 
he was in company with a sympathetic mind the 
evening before last.” 

Mrs. Crawford was smiling as one smiles passing 
a graceful compliment. 

“I think he was,” said Daireen. “Miss Vincent 
and he always seem pleased with each other’s society. ” 

“Miss Vincent? — Lottie Vincent?” cried the lady 
in a puzzled but apprehensive way. “What do you 
mean, Daireen? Lottie Vincent?” 

“ Why, you know Mr. Glaston and Miss Vincent 
went away from us, among the silver leaves, and 
only returned as we were coming down the hill.” 

Mrs, Crawford was speechless for some moments, 


DAIREEN. 


249 


Then she looked at the girl, saying, “ IVe ^ — who 
were wef” 

“Mr. Markham and myself,” replied Daireen 
without faltering. 

“Ah, indeed,” said the other pleasantly. Then 
there was a pause before she added, “That ends 
my association with Lottie Vincent. The artful 
designing little creature ! Daireen, you have no idea 
what good nature it required on my part to take 
any notice of that girl, knowing so much as I do 
of her; and this is how she treats me! Never mind; 
I have done with her.” Seeing the girl’s puzzled 
glance, Mrs. Crawford began to recollect that it 
could not be expected that Daireen should understand 
the nature of Lottie’s offence ; so she added, “ I 
mean, you know, dear, that that girl is full of spiteful 
designing tricks upon every occasion. And yet she 
had the effrontery to come to me yesterday to beg 
of me to take charge of her while her father would 
be at Natal. But I was not quite so weak. Never 
mind; she leaves to-morrow, thank goodness, and 
that is the last I mean to see of her. But about 
Mr. Markham: I hope you do not think I had 
anything to say in the matter of letting you be 
with him, Daireen. I did not mean it, indeed.” 

“ I am sure of it, ” said Daireen quietly — so quietly 
that Mrs. Crawford began to wonder could it be 
possible that the girl wished to show that she had 
been aware of the plans which had been designed 
on her behalf. Before she had made up her mind, 
however, the horses of Colonel Gerald and Standish 
were heard outside, and in a moment afterwards the 
colonel entered the room. 

“ Papa, ” said Daireen almost at once, “ Mr. Markham 
rode out to see you this afternoon.” 

“ Ah, indeed ? I am sorry I missed him, ” he 
said quietly. But Mrs. Crawford stared at the girl, 
wondering what was coming. 


250 


DAIREEN. 


“He came to say good-bye, papa.** 

Mrs. Crawford’s heart began to beat again. 

“What, is he returning to England?* asked the 
colonel. 

“ Oh, no; he is only about to follow Mr. Harwood’s 
example and go up to Natal.” 

“ Then he need not have said good-bye, any more 
than Harwood,” remarked the colonel; and his 
daughter felt it hard to restrain herself from throwing 
her arms about his neck. 

“Ah,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Miss Lottie has 
triumphed ! This Mr. Markham will go up in 
the steamer with her, and will probably act with 
her in this theatrical nonsense she is always get- 
ting up.” 

“ He is to act with her certainly, ” said Daireen. 

“Ah! Lottie has made a success at last,” cried 
the elder lady. “ Mr. Markham will suit her 
admirably. They will be engaged before they reach 
Algoa Bay.” 

“My dear Kate, why will you always jump at 
conclusions ? ” said the colonel. “ Markham is a fellow 
of far too much sense to be in the least degree led 
by such a girl as Lottie.” 

Daireen had hold of her father’s arm, and when 
he had spoken she turned round and kissed him. 

But it was not at all unusual for her to kiss him 
in this fashion on his return from a ride. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Haply the seas and countries different 

With variable objects shall expel 

This something-settled matter in his heart, 

Whereon his brain still beating puts him thus 
From fashion of himself. — Hamlet, 

He had got a good deal to think about, this Mr. 
Oswin Markham, as he stood on the bridge of the 
steamer that was taking him round the coast to 
Natal, and looked back at that mountain whose 
strange shape had never seemed stranger than it 
did from the distance of the Bay. 

Table Mountain was of a blue dimness, and the 
white walls of the houses at its base were quite 
hidden ; Robbin Island lighthouse had almost 
dwindled out of sight; and in the water, through 
the bright red gold shed from a mist in the west 
that the falling sun saturated with light, were seen 
the black heads of innumerable seals swimming out 
from the coastway of rocks. Yes, Mr. Oswin 
Markham had certainly a good deal to think about 
as he looked back to the flat-ridged mountain, and, 
mentally, upon all that had taken place since he had 
first seen its ridges a few weeks before. 

He had thought it well to talk of love to that 
girl who had given him the gift of the life he was 
at present breathing — to talk to her of love and to 
ask her to love him. Well, he had succeeded; she 
had put her hand trustfully in his and had trusted 

251 


DAIREEN. 


252 

him with all her heart, he knew; and yet the thought 
of it did not make him happy. His heart was not 
the heart of one who has triumphed. It was only 
full of pity for the girl who had listened to him and 
replied to him. 

And for himself he felt what was more akin to 
shame than any other feeling — shame, that, knowing 
all he did of himself, he had still spoken those words 
to the girl to whom he owed the life that was 
now his. 

" God ! was it not forced upon me when I struggled 
against it with all my soul ? ” he said, in an endea- 
vour to strangle his bitter feeling. “ Did not I make 
up my mind to leave the ship when I saw what 
was coming upon me, and was I to be blamed if 
I could not do so? Did not I rush away from her 
without a word of farewell? Did not we meet by 
chance that night in the moonlight? Were those 
words that I spoke to her thought over ? Were not 
they forced from me against my own will, and in 
spite of my resolution? ” There could be no doubt 
that if anyone acquainted with all the matters to 
which he referred had been ready to answer him, 
a satisfactory reply would have been received by 
him to each of his questions. But though, of course, 
he was aware of this, yet he seemed to find it 
necessary to alter the ground of the argument he 
was advancing for his own satisfaction. “ I have 
a right to forget the wretched past, ” he said, stand- 
ing upright and looking steadfastly across the 
glowing waters. " Have not I died for the past? 
Is not this life a new one? It is God’s justice that 
I am carrying out by forgetting all. The past is 
past, and the future in all truth and devotion is 
hers. ” 

There were, indeed, some moments of his life — 
and the present was one of them — when he felt satis- 
fied in his conscience by assuring himself, as he did 


DAIREEN. 


253 


now, that as God had taken away all remembrance 
of the past from many men who had suffered the 
agonies of death, he was therefore entitled to let his 
past life and its recollections drift away on that 
broken mast from which he had been cut in the 
middle of the ocean ; but the justice of the matter 
had not occurred to him when he got that bank 
order turned into money at the Cape, nor at the 
time when he had written to the agents of his 
father’s property in England, informing them of his 
escape. He now stood up and spoke those words 
of his, and felt their force, until the sun, whose 
outline had all the afternoon been undefined in the 
mist, sank beneath the horizon, and the gorgeous 
colours drifted round from his sinking place and 
dwindled into the dark green of the waters. He 
watched the sunset, and though Lottie Vincent came 
to his side in her most playful mood, her fresh and 
artless young nature found no response to its im- 
pulses in him. She turned away chilled, but no 
more discouraged than a little child, who, desirous 
of being instructed on the secret of the creative art 
embodied in the transformation of a handkerchief 
into a rabbit, finds its mature friend reflecting upon 
a perplexing point in the theory of Unconscious 
Cerebration. Lottie knew that her friend Mr. Oswin 
Markham sometimes had to think about matters of 
such a nature as caused her little pleasantries to 
seem incongruous. She thought that now she had 
better turn to a certain Lieutenant Clifford who, 
she knew, had no intricate mental problems to work 
out ; and she did turn to him, with great advantage 
to herself and, no doubt, to the officer as well. 
However forgetful Oswin Markham may have been 
of his past life, he could still recollect a few general- 
ities that had struck him in former years regarding 
young persons of a nature similar to this pretty little 
Miss Vincent’s. She had insisted on his fulfilling 


254 


DAIREEN. 


his promise to act with her, and he would fulfil it 
with a good grace ; but at this point his contract 
terminated ; he would not be tempted into making 
another promise to her which he might find much 
more embarrassing to carry out with consistency. 

It had been a great grief to Lottie to be com- 
pelled, through the ridiculous treatment of her 
father by the authorities in ordering him to Natal, 
to transfer her dramatic entertainment from Cape 
Town to Pieter Maritzburg. However, as she had 
sold a considerable number of tickets to her friends, 
she felt that “ the most deserving charity, ” the 
augmentation of whose funds was the avowed object 
of the entertainment, would be benefited in no 
inconsiderable degree by the change of venue. If 
the people of Pieter Maritzburg would steadfastly 
decline to supply her with so good an audience as 
the Cape Town people, there still would be a margin 
of profit, since her friends who had bought tickets 
on the understanding that the performance would 
take place where it was at first intended, did not 
receive their money back. How could they expect 
such a concession, Lottie asked, with innocent 
indignation; and begged to be informed if it was 
her fault that her father was ordered to Natal. 
Besides this one unanswerable query, she reminded 
those who ventured to make a timid suggestion 
regarding the returns, that it was in aid of a most 
deserving charity the tickets had been sold, so that 
it would be an act of injustice to give back a single 
shilling that had been paid for the tickets. Pursuing 
this very excellent system. Miss Lottie had to the 
credit of the coming performance a considerable 
sum which would provide against the contingencies 
of a lack of dramatic enthusiasm amongst the inha- 
bitants of Pieter Maritzburg. 

It was at the garden-party at Government House 
that Markham had by accident mentioned to Lottie 


DAIREEN. 


255 


that he had frequently taken part in dramatic 
performances for such-like objects as Lottie’s was 
designed to succour, and though he at first refused 
to be a member of her company, yet at Mrs. 
Crawford’s advocacy of the claims of the deserving 
object, he had agreed to place his services and 
experience at the disposal of the originator of the 
benevolent scheme. 

At Cape Town he had not certainly thrown 
himself very heartily into the business of creating 
a part in the drama which had been selected. He 
was well aware that if a good performance of the 
nature designed by Lottie is successful, a bad 
performance is infinitely more so; and that any 
attempt on the side of an amateur to strike out a 
new character from an old part is looked upon with 
suspicion, and is generally attended with disaster; 
so he had not given himself any trouble in the 
matter. 

“ My dear Miss Vincent, ” he had said in reply 
to a pretty little remonstrance from the young lady, 
“ the department of study requiring most attention 
in a dramatic entertainment of this sort is the finan- 
cial. Sell all the tickets you can, and you will be 
a greater benefactress to the charity than if you 
acted like a Kemble.” 

Lottie had taken his advice; but still she made 
up her mind that Mr. Markham’s name should be 
closely associated with the entertainment, and conse- 
quently, with her own name. Had she not been 
at pains to put into circulation certain stories of the 
romance surrounding him, and, thus, disposed of an 
unusual number of stalls? For even if one is not 
possessed of any dramatic inclinations, one is always 
ready to pay a price for looking at a man who 
has been saved from a shipwreck, or who has been 
the co-respondent in some notorious law case. 

When the fellows of the Bayonetteers, who had 


256 


DAIREEN. 


been indulging in a number of surmises regarding 
Lottie’s intentions with respect to Markham, heard 
that the young lady’s father had been ordered to 
proceed to Natal without delay, the information 
seemed to give them a good deal of merriment. 
The man who offered four to one that Lottie 
should not be able to get any lady friend to take 
charge of her in Cape Town until her father’s return, 
could get no one to accept his odds ; but his proposal 
of three to one that she would get Markham to 
accompany her to Natal was eagerly taken up; so 
that there were several remarks made at the mess 
reflecting upon the acuteness of Mr. Markham’s 
perception when it was learned that he was going 
with the young lady and her father. 

“ You see, ” remarked the man who had laid the 
odds, “I knew something of Lottie in India, and I 
knew what she was equal to. ” 

“Lottie is a devlish smart child, by Jove,” said 
one of the losers meditatively. 

“ Yes, she has probably cut her eye-teeth some 
years ago,” hazarded another subaltern. 

There was a considerable pause before a third of 
this full bench delivered final judgment as the result 
of the consideration of the case. 

“Poor beggar! ” he remarked; “ poor beggar I he’s 
a finished coon.” 

And that Mr. Oswin Markham was, indeed, a man 
whose career had been defined for him by another 
in the plainest possible manner, no member of the 
mess seemed to doubt. 

During the first couple of days of the voyage round 
the coast, when Miss Lottie would go to the side 
of Mr. Markham for the purpose of consulting him 
on some important point of detail in the intended 
performance, the shrewd young fellows of the regiment 
of Bayonetteers pulled their phantom shreds of 
moustaches, and brought the muscles of their faces 


DAIREEN. 


257 


about the eyes into play to a remarkable extent, 
with a view of assuring one another of the possession 
of an unusual amount of sagacity by the company 
to which they belonged. But when, after the third day 
of rehearsals, Lottie’s manner of gentle persuasive- 
ness towards them altered to nasty bitter upbraidings 
of the young man who had committed the trifling 
error of overlooking an entire scene here and there 
in working out the character he was to bring before 
the audience, and to a most hurtful glance of scorn 
at the other aspirant who had marked off in the 
margin of his copy of the play all the dialogue he 
was to speak, but who, unfortunately, had picked 
up a second copy belonging to a young lady in 
which another part had been similarly marked, so 
that he had, naturally enough, perfected himself in 
the dialogue of the lady’s role without knowing a 
letter of his own — when, for such trifling slips as 
these, Lottie was found to be so harsh, the deep 
young fellows made their facial muscles suggest a 
doubt as to whether it might not be possible that 
Markham was of a sterner and less malleable nature 
than they had at first believed him. 

The fact was that since Lottie had met with Oswin 
Markham she had been in considerable perplexity 
of mind. She had found out that he was in by 
no means indigent circumstances; but even with 
her guileless, careless perceptions, she was not long 
in becoming aware that he was not likely to be 
moulded according to her desires; so, while still 
behaving in a fascinating manner towards him, she 
had had many agreeable half-hours with Mr. Glaston, 
who was infinitely more plastic, she could see ; but 
so soon as the order had come for her father to 
go up to Natal she had returned in thought to Oswin 
Markham, and had smiled to see the grins upon 
the expressive faces of the officers of the Bayonetteers 
when she found herself by the side of Oswin 

17 


258 


DAIREEN. 


Markham. She rather liked these grins, for she 
had an idea — in her own simple way, of course — 
that there is a general tendency on the part of 
young people to associate when their names have 
been previously associated. She knew that the fact 
of her having persuaded this Mr. Markham to 
accompany her to Natal would cause his name to 
be joined with hers pretty frequently, and in her 
innocence she had no objection to make to this. 

As for Markham himself, he knew perfectly well 
what remarks people would make on the subject of 
his departure in the steamer with Lottie Vincent; 
he knew before he had been a day on the voyage 
that the Bayonetteers regarded him as somewhat 
deficient in firmness; but he felt that there was no 
occasion for him to be utterly broken down in spirit 
on account of this opinion being held by the 
Bayonetteers. He was not so blind but that he 
caught a glimpse now and again of a facial distortion 
on the part of a member of the company. He felt 
that it was probable these far-seeing fellows would 
be disappointed at the result of their surmises. 

And indeed the fellows of the regiment were 
beginning, before the voyage was quite over, to 
feel that this Mr. Oswin Markham was not altogether 
of the yielding nature which they had ascribed to 
him on the grounds of his having promised Lottie 
Vincent to accompany her and her father to Natal 
at this time. About Lottie herself there was but 
one opinion expressed, and that was of such a 
character as anyone disposed to ingratiate himself 
with the girl by means of flattery would hardly have 
hastened to communicate to her; for the poor little 
thing had been so much worried of late over the 
rehearsals which she was daily conducting aboard 
the steamer, that, failing to meet with any expression 
of sympathy from Oswin Markham, she had spoken 
very freely to some of the company in comment 


DAIREEN. 


259 


Upon their dramatic capacity, and not even an 
amateur actor likes to receive unreserved comment 
of an unfavourable character upon his powers. 

“ She is a confounded little humbug, ” said one 
of the subalterns to Oswin in confidence on the last 
day of the voyage. “ Hang me if I would have 
had anything to say to this deuced mummery if I 
had known what sort of a girl she was. By George, 
you should hear the stories Kirkham has on his 
fingers’ ends about her in India.” 

Oswin laughed quietly. “ It would be rash, if not 
cruel, to believe ail the stories that are told about 
girls in India,” he said. “As for Miss Vincent, I 
believe her to be a charming girl — as an actress.” 

“Yes,” said the lieutenant, who had not left his 
grinder on English literature long enough to forget 
all that he had learned of the literature of the past 
century, — “Yes; she is an actress among girls, and 
a girl among actresses.” 

“Good,” said Oswin; “very good. What is it 
that somebody or other remarked about Lord Ches- 
terfield as a wit?” 

“Never mind,” said the other, ceasing the laugh 
he had commenced. “What I say about Lottie is 

true.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


This world is not for aye, nor ’tis not strange 
That even our loves should with our fortunes change; 

For ’tis a question left us yet to prove, 

Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. 

Diseases desperate grown 
By desperate appliance are relieved. 

Or not at all. 

... so you must take yoiur husbands. 

It is our trick. Nature her custom holds 

Let shame say what it will: when these are gone 

The woman will be out. — Hamlet. 

“Of course,” said Lottie, as she stood by the side 
of Oswin Markham when the small steamer which 
had been specially engaged to take the field officers 
of the Bayonetteers over the dreaded bar of Durban 
harbour was approaching the quay, — “ of course we 
shall all go together up to Pieter Maritzburg. I 
have been there before, you know. We shall have 
a coach all to ourselves from Durban. ” She looked 
up to his face with only the least questioning ex- 
pression upon her own. But Mr. Markham thought 
that he had made quite enough promises previously : 
it would be unwise to commit himself even in so 
small a detail as the manner of the journey from 
the port of Durban to the garrison town of Pieter 
Maritzburg, which he knew was at a distance of 
upwards of fifty miles. 


DAIREEN. 


261 


“ I have not the least idea what I shall do when 
we land, ” he said. “ It is probable that I shall 
remain at the port for some days. I may as well 
see all that there is on view in this part of the 
colony. ” 

This was very distressing to the young lady. 

“ Do you mean to desert me?” she asked some- 
what reproachfully. 

“ Desert you? ” he said in a puzzled way. “ Ah, 
those are the words in a scene in your part, are 
they not?” 

Lottie became irritated almost beyond the endur- 
ance of a naturally patient soul. 

“ Do you mean to leave me to stand alone against 
all my difficulties, Mr. Markham?” 

“ I should be sorry to do that. Miss Vincent. If 
you have difficulties, tell me what they are; and if 
they are of such a nature that they can be curtailed 
by me, you may depend upon my exerting myself.” 

“You know very well what idiots these Bayonet- 
teers are,” cried Lottie. 

“ I know that most of them have promised to act 
in your theatricals,” replied Markham quietly; and 
Lottie tried to read his soul in another of her glances 
to discover the exact shade of the meaning of his 
words, but she gave up the quest. 

“ Of course you can please yourself, Mr. Mark- 
ham,” she said, with a coldness that was meant to 
appal him. 

“And I trust that I may never be led to do so 
at the expense of another,” he remarked. 

“ Then you will come in our coach ? ” she cried, 
brightening up. 

“Pray do not descend to particulars when we are 
talking in this vague way on broad matters of 
sentiment, Miss Vincent.” 

“ But I must know what you intend to do at 

onc^” 


262 


DAIREEN. 


“ At once? I intend to go ashore, and try if it is 
possible to get a dinner worth eating. After that 
— well, this is Tuesday, and on 'Ihursday week your 
entertainment will take place; before that day you 
say you want three rehearsals, then I will agree to 
be by your side at Pieter Maritzburg on Saturday 
next.” 

This business-like arrangement was not what Lottie 
on leaving Cape Town had meant to be the result 
of the voyage to Natal. There was a slight pause 
before she asked: 

“ What do you mean by treating me in this way ? 
I always thought you were my friend. What will 
papa say if you leave me to go up there alone ? ” 

This was a very daring bit of dialogue on the 
part of Miss Lottie, but they were nearing the quay 
where she knew Oswin would be free; aboard the 
mail steamer of course he was — well, scarcely free. 
But Mr. Markham was one of those men who are 
least discomfited by a daring stroke. He looked 
steadfastly at the girl so soon as she uttered her 
words. 

“ The problem is too interesting to be allowed to 
pass. Miss Vincent,” he said. “We shall do our 
best to have it answered. By Jove, doesn’t that 
man on the quay look like Harwood ? It is Harwood 
indeed, and I thought him among the Zulus.” 

The first man caught sight of on the quay was 
indeed the special correspondent of the “ Dominant 
Trumpeter. ” Lottie’s manner changed instantly on 
seeing him, and she gave one of her girlish laughs 
on noticing the puzzled expression upon his face 
as he replied to her salutations while yet afar. She 
was very careful to keep by the side of Oswin until 
the steamer was at the quay; and when at last 
Harwood recognized the features of the two persons 
who had been saluting him, she saw him look with 
^ little smile first to herself, then to Oswin, and she 


DAIREEN. 263 ' 

thought it prudent to give a small guilty glance 
downwards and to repeat her girlish laugh. 

Oswin saw Harwood’s glance and heard Lottie’s 
laugh. He also heard the young lady making an 
explanation of certain matters, to which Harwood 
answered with a second little smile. 

“ Kind ? Oh, exceedingly kind of him to come 
so long a distance for the sake of assisting you. 
Nothing could be kinder. ” 

“ I feel it to be so indeed, ” said Miss Vincent. 
“I feel that I can never repay Mr. Markham.” 

Again that smile .came to Mr. Harwood as he 
said : 

“ Do not take such a gloomy view of the matter, 
my dear Miss Vincent ; perhaps on reflection some 
means may be suggested to you.” 

“ What can you mean ? ” cried the puzzled little 
thing, tripping away. 

“ Well, Harwood, in spite of your advice to me, 
you see I am here not more than a week behind 
yourself. ” 

“And you are looking better than I could have 
believed possible for anyone in the condition you 
were in when I left,” said Harwood. “Upon my 
word, I did not expect much from you as I watched 
you go up the stairs at the hotel after that wild 
ride of yours to and from no place in particular. 
But, of course, there are circumstances under which 
fellows look knocked up, and there are others that 
combine to make them seem quite the contrary; 
now it seems to me you are subject to the influence 
of the latter just at present. ” He glanced as if by 
accident over to where Lottie was making a pleasant 
little fuss about some articles of her luggage. 

“ You are right,” said Markham — “ quite right. I 
have reason to be particularly elated just now, 
having got free from that steamer and my fellow- 
passengers.” 


264 


DAIREEN. 


** Why, the fellows of the Bayonetteers struck me 
as being particularly good company,” said Harwood. 

“ And so they were. Now I must look after this 
precious portmanteau of mine.” 

“And assist that helpless little creature to look 
after hers, ” muttered Harwood when the other had 
left him. “ Poor little Lottie ! is it possible that you 
have landed a prize at last? Well, no one will 
say that you don’t deserve something for your years 
of angling.” 

Mr. Harwood felt very charitably inclined just 
at this instant, for his reflections on the behaviour 
of Markham during the last few days they had been 
at the same hotel at Cape Town had not by any 
means been quieted since they had parted. He 
was sorry to be compelled to leave Cape Town 
without making any discovery as to the mental 
condition of Markham. Now, however, he knew 
that Markham had been strong enough to come on 
to Natal, so that the searching out of the problem 
of his former weakness would be as uninteresting 
as it would be unprofitable. If there should chance 
to be any truth in that vague thought which had 
been suggested to him as to the possibility of Mark- 
ham having become attached to Daireen Gerald, 
what did it matter now ? Here was Markham, having 
overcome his weakness, whatever it may have been, 
by the side of Lottie Vincent ; not indeed appearing 
to be in great anxiety regarding the welfare of the 
young lady’s luggage which was being evil-treated, 
but still by her side, and this made any further 
thought on his behalf unnecessary. 

Mr. Markham had given his portmanteau into the 
charge of one of the Natal Zulus, and then he turned 
to Harwood. 

“You don’t mind my asking you what you are 
doing at Durban instead of being at the other side 
of the Tugela?” he said. 


DAIREEN. 


265 


** The Zulus of this province require to be treated 
of most carefully in the first instance, before the 
great question of Zulus in their own territory can be 
fully understood by the British public,” replied the 
correspondent. “I am at present making the Zulu 
of Durban my special study. I suppose you will 
be off at once to Pieter Maritzburg ? ” 

“No,” said Markham. “I intend remaining at 
Durban to study the — the Zulu characteristics for a 
few days.” 

“ But Lottie — I beg your pardon — Miss Vincent 
is going on at once.” 

There was a little pause, during which Markham 
stared blankly at his friend. 

“ What on earth has that got to say to my 
remaining here?” he said. 

Harwood looked at him and felt that Miss Lottie 
was right, even on purely artistic grounds, in choosing 
Oswin Markham as one of her actors. 

“ Nothing— nothing of course,” he replied to 
Markham’s question. 

But Miss Lottie had heard more than a word of 
this conversation. She tripped up to Mr. Harwood. 

“ Why don’t you make some enquiry about your 
old friends, you most ungrateful of men ? ” she cried. 
“ Oh, I have such a lot to tell you. Dear old Mrs. 
Crawford was in great grief about your going away, 
you know — oh, such great grief that she was forced 
to give a picnic the second day after you left, for 
fear we should all have broken down utterly.” 

“That was very kind of Mrs. Crawford,” said 
Harwood; “and it only remains for me to hope 
fervently that the required effect was produced.” 

“ So far as I was concerned, it was, ” said Lottie. 
“But it would never do for me to speak for other 
people.” 

“ Other people? ” 

“Yes, other people — the charming Miss Gerald, 


266 


DAIREEN. 


for instance; I cannot speak for her, but Mr. Markham 
certainly can, for he lay at her feet during the entire 
of the afternoon when everyone else had wandered 
away up the ravine. Yes, Mr. Markham will tell 
you to a shade what her feelings were upon that 
occasion. Now, bye-bye. You will come to our 
little entertainment next week, will you not? And 
you will turn up on Saturday for rehearsal ? ” she 
added, smiling at Oswin, who was looking more 
stem than amused. “ Don’t forget — Saturday. You 
should be very grateful for my giving you liberty 
for so long.” 

Both men went ashore together without a word; 
nor did they fall at once into a fluent chat when 
they set out for the town, which was more than 
two miles distant; for Mr. Harwood was thinking 
out another of the problems which seemed to 
suggest themselves to him daily from the fact of his 
having an acute ear for discerning the shades of 
tone in which his friends uttered certain phrases. 
He was just now engaged linking fancy unto fancy, 
thinking if it was a little impulse of girlish jealousy, 
meant only to give a mosquito-sting to Oswin 
Markham, that had caused Miss Lottie Vincent to 
make that reference to Mi^s Gerald, or if it was a 
piece of real bitterness designed to wound deeply. 
It was an interesting problem, and Mr. Harwood 
worked at its solution very patiently, weighing 
all his recollections of past words and phrases that 
might tend to a satisfactory result. 

But the greatest amount of satisfaction was not 
afforded to Mr. Harwood by the pursuit of the 
intricacies of the question he had set himself to work 
out, but by the reflection that at any rate Markham’s 
being at Natal and not within easy riding distance 
of a picturesque Dutch cottage at Mowbray, was a 
certain good. What did it signify now if Markham 
had previously been too irresolute to tear himself 


DAIREEN. 


267 


away from the association of that cottage ? Had he 
not afterwards proved himself sufficiently strong? 
And if this strength had come to him through any 
conversation he might have had with Miss Gerald 
on the hill-side to which Lottie had alluded, or else- 
where, what business was it to anybody? Here was 
Markham — there was Durban, and this was satis- 
factory. Only — what did Lottie mean exactly by 
that little bit of spitefulness or bitterness? 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


Polonius. The actors are come hither, my lord. 

Hamlet. Buz, buz. 

Polonius. Upon my honour. 

Hamlet. Then came each actor on his ass. 

Polonius. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, 
comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, scene 
individable or poem imlimited . . . these are the only men. 

Being thus benetted round with villanies, — 

Or I could make a prologue to my brains. 

They had begun the play, — I sat me down, 

. , . Wilt thou know 
The effect . . ,? — Hamlet. 


Upon the evening of the Thursday week after the 
arrival of that steamer with two companies of the 
Bayonetteers at Durban, the town of Pieter Maritzburg 
was convulsed with the prospect of the entertainment 
that was to take place in its midst, for Miss Lottie 
Vincent had not passed the preceding week in a 
condition of dramatic abstraction. She was by no 
means so wrapped up in the part she had undertaken 
to represent as to be unable to give the necessary 
attention to the securing of an audience. 

It would seem to a casual entrepreneur visiting 
Pieter Maritzburg that a large audience might be 
assured for an entertainment possessing even the 
minimum of attractiveness, for the town appears to 
be of an immense size — that is for a South African 
town. The colonial Romulus and Remus have 
shown at all times very lordly notions on the subject 


DAIREEN. 


269 


of boundaries, and, being subject to none of those 
restrictions as to the cost of every square foot of 
territory which have such a cramping influence upon 
the founders of municipalities at home, they exercise 
their grand ideas in the most extensive way. The 
streets of an early colonial town are broad roads, 
and the spaces between the houses are so great as 
almost to justify the criticism of those narrow-minded 
visitors who call the town straggling. At one time 
Pieter Maritzburg may have been straggling, but it 
certainly did not strike Oswin Markham as being 
so when he saw it now for the first time on his 
arrival. He felt that it had got less of a Dutch 
look about it than Cape Town, and though that 
towering and overshadowing impression which Table 
Mountain gives to Cape Town was absent, yet the 
circle of hills about Pieter Maritzburg seemed to 
him— and his fancy was not particularly original — to 
give the town almost that nestling appearance which 
by tradition is the natural characteristic of an English 
village. 

But if an entrepreneur should calculate the prob- 
able numerical value of an audience in Pieter Maritz- 
burg from a casual walk through the streets, he 
would find that his assumption had been founded 
upon an erroneous basis. The streets are long and 
in fact noble, but the inhabitants available for ful- 
filling the duties of an audience at a dramatic 
entertainment are out of all proportion few. Two 
difiiculties are to be contended with in making up 
audiences in South Africa: the first is getting the 
people in, and the second is keeping people out. 
As a rule the races of different colour do not amal- 
gamate with sufiicient ease to allow of a mixed 
audience being pervaded with a common sympathy. 
A white man seated between a Hottentot and a 
Kafir will scarcely be brought to admit that he has 
had a pleasant evening, even though the performance 


270 


DAIREEN. 


on the stage is of a choice character. A single 
Zulu will make his presence easily perceptible in a 
room full of white people, even though he should 
remain silent and in a secluded corner; while a 
Hottentot, a Kafir, and a Zulu constitute a bouquet 
d*Afrique the savour of which is apt to divert the 
attention of anyone in their neighbourhood from the 
realistic effect of a garden scene upon the stage. 

Miss Lottie, being well aware that the audience- 
forming material in the town was small in proportion 
to the extent of the streets, set herself with her usual 
animation about the task of disposing of the remain- 
ing tickets. She fancied that she understood some- 
thing of the system to be pursued with success amongst 
the burghers. She felt it to be her duty to pay a 
round of visits to the houses where she had been 
intimate in the days of her previous residence at 
the garrison; and she contrived to impress upon 
her friends that the ties of old acquaintance should 
be consolidated by the purchase of a number of her 
tickets. She visited several families who, she knew, 
had been endeavouring for a long time to work 
themselves into the military section of the town’s 
society, and after hinting to them that the officers 
of the Bayonetteers would remain in the lowest 
spirits until they had made the acquaintance of 
the individual members of each of those families, 
she invariably disposed of a ticket to the individual 
member whose friendship was so longed for at the 
garrison. As for the tradesmen of the town, she 
managed without any difficulty, or even without 
forgetting her own standing, to make them aware 
of the possible benefits that would accrue to the 
business of the town under the patronage of the 
officers of the Bayonetteers; and so, instead of having 
to beg of the tradesmen to support the deserving 
charity on account of which she was taking such a 
large amount of trouble, she found herself thanked 


DAIREEN. 


271 


for the permission she generously accorded to these 
worthy men to purchase places for the evening. 

She certainly deserved well of the deserving 
charity; and the old field-officers, who rolled their 
eyes and pulled their moustaches, recollecting the 
former labours of Miss Lottie, had got as imperfect 
a knowledge of the proportions of her toil and 
reward as the less-goodnatured of their wives who 
alluded to the trouble she was taking as if it was 
not wholly disinterested. Lottie certainly took a 
vast amount of trouble, and if Oswin Markham only 
appeared at the beginning of each rehearsal and left 
at the conclusion, the success of the performance 
was not at all jeopardized by his action. 

For the entire week preceding the evening of the 
performance little else was talked about in all sections 
of Maritzburgian society but the prospects of its 
success. The ladies in the garrison were beginning 
to be wearied of the topic of theatricals, and the 
colonel of the Bayonetteers was heard to declare 
that he would not submit any longer to have the 
regimental parades only half-officered day by day, 
and that the plea of dramatic study would be 
insufficient in future to excuse an absentee. But 
this vigorous action was probably accelerated by 
the report that reached him of a certain lieutenant, 
who had only four lines to speak in the play, having 
escaped duty for the entire week on the grounds 
of the necessity for dramatic study. 

At last the final nail was put in the fastenings 
of the scenery on the stage, which a number of the 
Royal Engineers, under the guidance of two officers 
and a clerk of the works, had erected ; the footlights 
were after considerable difficulty coaxed into flame. 
The officers of the garrison and their wives made 
an exceedingly good front row in the stalls, and a 
number of the sergeants and privates filled up the 
back seats, ready to applaud, without reference to 


272 


DAIRTSEJT. 


their merits at the performance, their favourite 
officers when they should appear on the stage; the 
intervening seats were supposed to be booked by 
the general audience, and their punctuality of attend- 
ance proved that Lottie’s labours had not been in 
vain. 

Mr. Harwood having tired of Durban, had been 
some days in the town, and he walked from the hotel 
with Markham; for Mr. Markham, though the part 
he was to play was one of most importance in the 
drama, did not think it necessary to hang about the 
stage for the three hours preceding the lifting of 
the . curtain, as most of the Bayonetteers who were 
to act believed to be prudent. Harwood took a 
seat in the second row of stalls, for he had promised 
Lottie and one of the other young ladies who was 
in the cast, to give each of them a candid opinion 
upon their representations. For his own part he 
would have preferred giving his opinion before seeing 
the representations, for he knew what a strain would 
be put upon his candour after they were over. 

When the orchestra — which was a great feature 
of the performance — struck up an overture, the stage 
behind the curtain was crowded with figures in top- 
boots and with noble hats encircled with ostrich 
feathers — the element of brigandage entering largely 
into the construction of the drama of the evening. 
Each of the figures carried a small pamphlet which 
he studied every now and again, for in spite of 
the many missed parades, a good deal of uncertainty 
as to the text of their parts pervaded the minds of 
the histrionic Bayonetteers. Before the last notes of 
the overture had crashed, Lottie Vincent, radiant in 
pearl powder and pencilled eyebrows, wearing a 
plain muslin dress and white satin shoes, her fair 
hair with a lovely white rose shining amongst its 
folds, tripped out. Her character in the first act 
being that of a simple village maiden, she was dressed 


DAIREEN. 


273 


with becoming consistency, every detail down to 
those white satin shoes being, of course, in keeping 
with the ordinary attire of simple village maidens 
wherever civilization has spread. 

“For goodness’ sake leave aside your books,” 
she said to the young men as she came forward. 
“Do you mean to bring them out with you and 
read from them? Surely after ten rehearsals you 
might be perfect.” 

“ Hang me, if I haven’t a great mind not to 
appear at all in this rot,” said one of the gentlemen 
in the top-boots to his companions. He had caught 
a glimpse of himself in a mirror a minute previously 
and he did not like the picture. “ If it was not for 
the sake of the people who have come I’d cut the 
whole affair.” 

“ She has done nothing but bully, ” remarked a 
second of these desperadoes in top-boots. 

“ All because that fellow Markham has shown 
himself to be no idiot,” said a third. 

“ Count Rodolph loves her, but I’ll spare him 
not: he dies to-night,” remarked another, but he 
was only refreshing his memory on the dialogue 
he was to speak. 

When the gentleman who was acting as prompter 
saw that the stage was cleared, he gave the signal 
for the orchestra to play the curtain up. At the 
correct moment, and with a perfection of stage 
management that would have been creditable to 
any dramatic establishment in the world, as one of 
the Natal newspapers a few days afterwards remarked 
with great justice, the curtain was raised, and an ex- 
cellent village scene was disclosed to the enthusiastic 
audience. Two of the personages came on at once, 
and so soon as their identity was clearly established, 
the soldiers began to applaud, which was doubtless 
very gratifying to the two officers, from a regimental 
standpoint, though it somewhat interfered with the 

18 


274 


DAIREEN. 


progress of the scene. The prompter, however, 
hastened to the aid of the young men who had lost 
themselves in that whirlwind of applause, and the 
dialogue began to run easily. 

Lottie had made for herself a little loophole in the 
back drop-scene through which she observed the 
audience. She saw that the place was crowded to 
the doors — English-speaking and Dutch-speaking 
burghers were in the central seats; she smiled as 
she noticed the aspirants to garrison intimacies 
crowding up as close as possible to the officers’ 
wives in the front row, and she wondered if it would 
be necessary to acknowledge any of them for longer 
than a week. Then she saw Harwood with the 
faintest smile imaginable upon his face, as the young 
men on the stage repeated the words of their parts 
without being guilty either of the smallest mistake 
or the least dramatic spirit; arid this time she 
wondered if, when she would be going through her 
part and she would look towards Harwood, she 
should find the same sort of smile upon his face. She 
rather thought not. Then, as the time for her call 
approached, she hastened round to her entrance, 
waiting until the poor stuff the two young men were 
speaking came to an end; then, not a second past 
her time, she entered, demure and ingenuous as all 
village maidens in satin slippers must surely be. 

She was not disappointed in her reception by the 
audience. The ladies in the front stalls who had 
spoken, it might be, unkindly of her in private, now 
showed their good nature in public, and the field 
officers forgot all the irregularities she had caused 
in the regiment and welcomed her heartily ; while 
the tradesmen in the middle rows made their applause 
a matter of business. The village maiden with the 
satin shoes smiled in the timid, fluttered, dove-like 
way that is common amongst the class, and then 
went on with her dialogue. She felt altogether 


DAIREEN. 


275 


happy, for she knew that the young lady who was 
to appear in the second scene could not possibly 
meet with such an expression of good feeling as 
she had obtained from the audience. 

And now the play might be said to have com- 
menced in earnest. It was by no means a piece 
of French frivolity, this drama, but a genuine work 
of English art as it existed thirty years ago, and 
it was thus certain to commend itself to the 
Pieter-Maritzburghers who liked solidity even when 
it verged upon stolidity. 

“ Throne or Spouse ” was the title of the play, and 
if its incidents were somewhat improbable and its 
details utterly impossible, it was not the less agreeable 
to the audience. The two young men who had 
appeared in top-boots on the village green had 
informed each other, the audience happily overhear- 
ing, that they had been out hunting with a certain 
Prince, and that they had got separated from their 
companions. 

They embraced the moment as opportune for the 
discussion of a few court affairs, such as the Ulness 
of the monarch, and the Princess prospects of 
becoming his successor, and then they thought it 
would be as well to try and find their way back to 
the court; so off they went. Then Miss Vincent 
came on the village green and reminded herself that 
her name was Marie and that she was a simple 
village maiden; she also recalled the fact that she 
lived alone with her mother in Yonder Cottage. It 
seemed to give her considerable satisfaction to reflect 
that, though poor, she was, and she took it upon 
her to say that her mother was also, strictly virtuous, 
and she wished to state in the most emphatic terms 
that though she was wooed by a certain Count 
Rodolph, yet, as she did not love him, she would 
never be his. Lottie was indeed very emphatic at 
this part, and her audience applauded her determina- 


276 


DAIREEN. 


tion as Marie. Curiously enough, she had no sooner 
expressed herself in this fashion than one of the 
Bayonetteers entered, and at the sight of him Lottie 
called out, “ Ah, he is here ! Count Rodolph ! ” 
This the audience felt was a piece of subtle construc- 
tive art on the part of the author. Then the new 
actor replied, “Yes, Count Rodolph is here, sweet 
Marie, where he would ever be, by the side of the 
fairest village maiden,” etc. 

The new actor was attired in one of the broad 
hats of the period — whatever it may have been — 
with a long ostrich feather. He had an immense 
black moustache, and his eyebrows were exceedingly 
heavy. He also wore top-boots, a long sword, and 
a black cloak, one fold of which he now and again 
threw over his left shoulder when it worked its way 
down his arm. It was not surprising that further 
on in the drama the Count was found to be a dis- 
sembler; his costume fostered any proclivities in 
this way that might otherwise have remained dormant. 

The village maiden begged to know why the 
Count persecuted her with his attentions, and he 
replied that he did so on account of his love for 
her. She then assured him that she could never 
bring herself to look on him with favour; and this 
naturally drew from him the energetic declaration 
of his own passion for her. He concluded by asking 
her to be his: she cried with emphasis, “Never!” 
He repeated his application, and again she cried 
“Never!” and told him to begone. “You shall 
be mine, ” he cried, catching her by the arm. 
“ Wretch, leave me,” she said, in all her village- 
maiden dignity; he repeated his assertion and clasped 
her round the waist with ardour. Then she shrieked 
for help, and a few simple villagers rushed hurriedly 
on the stage, but the Count drew his sword and 
threatened with destruction anyone who might 
advance. The simple villagers bought it prudent 


DAIREEN. 


277 


to retire. “Ha! now, proud Marie, you are in my 
power, ” said the Count. “ Is there no one to save 
me?” shrieked Marie. “Yes, here is some one 
who will save you or perish in the attempt,” came 
a voice from the wings, and with an agitation 
pervading the sympathetic orchestra, a respectable 
young man in a green hunting-suit with a horn by 
his side and a drawn sword in his hand, rushed on, 
and was received with an outburst of applause from 
the audience who in Pieter Maritzburg, as in every 
place else, are ever on the side of virtue. This 
new actor was Oswin Markham, and it seemed that 
Lottie’s stories regarding the romance associated 
with his appearance were successful, for not only 
was there much applause, but a quiet hum of remark 
was heard amongst the front stalls, and it was some 
moments before the business of the stage could be 
proceeded with. 

So soon as he was able to speak, the Count 
wished to know who was the intruder that dared 
to face one of the nobles of the land, and the intruder 
replied in general terms, dwelling particularly 
upon the fact that only those were noble who 
behaved nobly. He expressed an inclination to 
fight with the Count, but the latter declined to 
gratify him on account of the difference there was 
between their social standing, and he left the stage 
saying, “ Farewell, proud beauty, we shall meet 
again.” Then he turned to the stranger, and, laying 
his hand on his sword-hilt after he had thrown his 
cloak over his shoulder, he cried, “We too shall 
meet again.” 

The stranger then made some remarks to himself 
regarding the manner in which he was stirred by 
Marie’s beauty. He asked her who she was, and 
she replied, truthfully enough, that she was a simple 
village maiden, and that she lived in Yonder Cottage. 
He then told her that he was a member of the 


278 


DAIREEN. 


Prince’s retinue, and that he had lost his way at 
the hunt; and he begged the girl to conduct him 
to Yonder Cottage. The girl expressed her pleasure 
at being able to show him some little attention, 
but she remarked that the stranger would find 
Yonder Cottage very humble. She assured him, 
however, of the virtue of herself, and again went 
so far as to speak for her mother. The stranger 
then made a nice little speech about the constituents 
of true nobility, and went out with Marie as the 
curtain fell. 

The next scene was laid in Yonder Cottage; the 
virtuous mother being discovered knitting, and 
whiling away the time by talking to herself of the 
days when she was nurse to the late Queen. Then 
Marie and the stranger entered, and there was a 
pleasant family party in Yonder Cottage. The 
stranger was evidently struck with Marie, and the 
scene ended by his swearing to make her his wife. 
The next act showed the stranger in his true 
character as the Prince; his royal father has heard 
of his attachment to Marie, and not being an 
enthusiast on the subject of simple village maidens 
becoming allied to the royal house, he threatens 
to cut oif the entail of the kingdom — which it 
appeared he had power to do — if the Prince does 
not relinquish Marie, and he dies leaving a clause 
in his will to this effect. 

The Prince rushes to Yonder Cottage — hears that 
Marie is carried off by the Count —rescues her — 
marries her — and then the virtuous mother confesses 
that the Prince is her own child, and Marie is the 
heiress to the throne. No one appeared to dispute 
the story — Marie is consequently Queen and her 
husband King, having through his proper treatment 
of the girl gained the kingdom; and the curtain 
falls on general happiness, Count Rodolph having 
committed suicide. 


DAIREEN. 


279 


“ Nothing- could have been more successful,” said 
Lottie, all tremulous with excitement, to Oswin, as 
they went off together amid a tumult of applause, 
which was very sweet to her ears. 

“ I think it went off very well indeed, ” said Oswin. 
“Your acting was perfection, Miss Vincent.” 

“ Call me Marie, ” she said playfully. “ But we 
must really go before the curtain; hear how they 
are applauding.” 

“I think we have had enough of it,” said Oswin. 

“Come along,” she cried; “I dislike it above all 
things, but there is nothing for it.” 

The call for Lottie and Oswin was determined, 
so after the soldiers had called out their favourite 
officers, Oswin brought the girl forward, and the 
enthusiasm was very great. Lottie then went off, 
and for a few moments Markham remained alone 
upon the stage. He was most heartily applauded, 
and, after acknowledging the compliment, he was 
just stepping back when from the centre of the seats 
a man’s voice came, loud and clear: 

“ Bravo, old boy! you’re a trump wherever you 
turn up.” 

There was a general moving of heads, and some 
laughter in the front rows. 

But Oswin Markham looked from where he was 
standing on the stage down to the place whence 
that voice seemed to come. He neither laughed nor 
smiled, only stepped back behind the curtain. 

The stage was now crowded with the actors and 
their friends; everybody was congratulating every- 
body else. Lottie was in the highest spirits. 

“ Could anything have been more successful?” she 
cried again to Oswin Markham. He looked at her 
without answering for some moments. “ I don’t 
know,” he said at last. “Successful? perhaps so.” 

“What on earth do you mean?” she asked; “are 
you afraid of the Natal critics?” 


28 o 


DAIREEN. 


“No, I can’t say I am.* 

“Of what then?” 

“There is a person at the door who wishes to 
speak to you, Mr. Markham,” said one of the ser- 
vants coming up to Oswin. “He says he doesn’t 
carry cards, but you will see his name here,” and 
he handed Oswin an envelope. 

Oswin Markham read the name on the envelope 
and crushed it into his pocket, saying to the 
servant, 

“ Show the — gentleman up to the room where I 
dressed. ” 

So Miss Lottie did not become aware of the origin 
of Mr. Markham’s doubt as to the success of the 
great drama “Throne or Spouse.” 


CHAPTER XXXn. 


Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely 
bar the door upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to 
your friend. 

. . . tempt him with speed aboard; 

Delay it not; I’ll have him hence to-night. 

Indeed this counsellor 

Is now most still, most secret, and most grave. 

Who was in life a foolish prating knave. 

This sudden sending him away must seem 

Deliberate. — Hamlet. 

In the room where he had assumed the dress of 
the part he had just played, Oswin Markham was 
now standing idle, and without making any attempt 
to remove the colour from his face or the streaks 
from his eyebrows. He was still in the dress of the 
Prince when the door was opened and a man entered 
the room eagerly. 

“By Jingo! yes, I thought you’d see me,” he 
cried before he had closed the door. All the 
people outside — and there were a good many— who 
chanced to hear the tone of the voice knew that the 
speaker was the man who had shouted those friendly 
words when Oswin was leaving the stage. “ Yes, 
old fellow,” he continued, slapping Markham on the 
back and grasping him by the hand, “I thought I 
might venture to intrude upon you. Right glad 1 
was to see you, though, by heavens! I thought I 

281 


282 


DAIREEN. 


should have shouted out when I saw you — you, of 
all people, here. Tell us how it comes, Oswin. 
How the deuce do your appear at this place? Why, 
whafs the matter with you? Have you talked so 
much in that tall way on the boards that you haven’t 
a word left to say here? You weren’t used to be 
dumb in the good old days — good old nights, my 
boy.” 

“You won’t give me a chance,” said Oswin; and 
he did not even smile in response to the other’s 
laughter. 

“ There then, I’ve dried up, ” said the stranger. 
“ But. by my soul, I tell you I’m glad to see you. 
It seems to me, do you know, that I’m drunk now, 
and that when I sleep off the fit you’ll be gone. 
I’ve fancied queer things when I’ve been drunk, as 
you well know. But it’s you yourself, isn’t it?” 

“One need have no doubt about your identity,” 
said Oswin. “ You talk in the same infernally 
muddled way that ever Harry Despard used to 
talk.” 

“That’s like yourself, my boy,” cried the man, 
with a loud laugh. “ I’m beginning to feel that it’s 
you indeed, though you are dressed up like a 
Prince — by heavens! you played the part well. I 
couldn’t help shouting out what I did for a lark. 
I wondered what you’d think when you heard my 
voice. But how did you manage to turn up at 
Natal ? tell me that. You left us to go up country, 
didn’t you?” 

“ It’s a long story,” replied Oswin. “ Very long, 
and I am bound to change this dress. I can’t go 
about in this fashion for ever.” 

“No more you can,” said the other. “And the 
sooner you get rid of those togs the better, for by 
God, it strikes me that they give you a wrong 
impression about yourself. You’re not so hearty 
by a long way as you used to be. I’ll tell you 



i 

He was still in the dress of a prince when the door opened and 
a man entered.— Page 282. 



^ • 1 

• . • d 

* 


0 



M- 




j 


% 








t 


> 

I 


•I* 


< 






N 




« 



•I 


' f • 


V 


* 


« 


' . 




I 


« 


i 

« 

f 



I 




I 



0 




I 




t 



» 


• 1 

• * 


\ 


!• 


I 


f 



« 




4 


% 




*S'' 


« . 


I 




4 


I 


9 


I 




i 


9 



0 





I 


i 


9 


'J 






# 




» 



<1 





I ^ 

4 







I 


A 


i 











4 


^ a 


DAIREEN. 


283 


what 111 do ; Fll go on to the hotel and wait there 
until you are in decent rig. I’ll only be in this 
town until to-morrow evening, and we must have 
a night together.” 

For the first time since the man had entered the 
room Oswin brightened up. 

“Only till to-morrow night, Hal?” he cried. 
“Then we must have a few jolly hours together 
before we part. I won’t let you even go to the 
hotel now. Stay here while I change, like a decent 
fellow.” 

“Now that sounds like your old form, my boy; 
hang me if I don’t stay with you. Is that a flask 
in the portmanteau ? It is, by Jingo, and if it’s not 
old Irish may I be — and cigars too. Yes, I will 
stay, old fellow, for auld lang syne. This is like 
auld lang syne, isn’t it? Why, where are you 
off to?” 

“ I have to give a message to some one in another 
room,” said Oswin, leaving the man alone. He was 
a tall man, apparently about the same age as 
Markham. So much of his face as remained uncon- 
cealed by a shaggy, tawny beard and whiskers was 
bronzed to a copper colour. His hair was short 
and tawny, and his mouth was very coarse. His 
dress was not shabby, but the largeness of the 
check on the pattern scarcely argued the possession 
of a subdued taste on the part of the wearer. 

He had seated himself upon a table in the room 
though there were plenty of chairs, and when Oswin 
went out he filled the flask cup and emptied it with 
a single jerk of his head; then he snatched up the 
hat which had been worn by Oswin on the stage; 
he threw it into the air and caught it on one of 
his feet, then with a laugh he kicked it across the 
floor. 

But Oswin had gone to the room where Captain 
How’ard, who had acted as stage manager, was 


284 


DAIREEN. 


smoking after the labours of the evening. • Howard, ” 
said Markham, “I must be excused from your supper 
to-night.” 

“Nonsense,” said Howard. “It would be too 
ridiculous for us to have a supper if you who have 
done the most work to-night should be away. 
What’s the matter ? Have you a doctor’s certificate ? ” 

“ The fact is a — a — sort of friend of mine — a man 
I knew pretty intimately some time ago, has turned 
up here most unexpectedly.” 

“Then bring your sort of friend with you.” 

“ Quite impossible, ” said Markham quickly. “ He 
is not the kind of man who would make the supper 
agreeable either to himself or to anyone else. You 
will explain to the other fellows how I am compelled 
to be away.” 

“But you’ll turn up some time in the course of 
the night, won’t you?” 

“ I am afraid to say I shall. The fact is, my 
friend requires a good deal of attention to be given 
to him in the course of a friendly night. If I can 
manage to clear myself of him in decent time I’ll 
be with you.” 

“ You must manage it,” said Howard as Os win 
went back to the room, where he found his friend 
struggling to pull on the green doublet in which the 
Prince had appeared in the opening scene of the play. 

“ Hang me if I couldn’t do the part like one 
o’clock,” he cried; “the half of it is in the togs. 
You weren’t loud enough. Os win, when you came 
on ; you wouldn’t have brought down the gods even 
at Ballarat. This is how you should have done it : 
‘I’ll save you or ’” 

“For heaven’s sake don’t make a fool of your- 
self, Hal.” 

“I was only going to show you how it should 
be done to rouse the people; and as for making a 
fool of myself ” 


DAIREEN. 


285 


“You have done that so often you think it not 
worth the caution. Come now, stuff those things 
into the portmanteau, and I’ll have on my mufti in 
five minutes.” 

“And then off to the hotel, and you bet your 
pile, as we used to say at Chokeneck Gulch, we’ll 
have more than a pint bottle of Bass. By the way, 
how about your bronze ; does the good old governor 
still stump up?” 

“My allowance goes regularly to Australia,” said 
Oswin, with a stern look coming to his face. 

“And where else should it go, my boy? By the 
way, that’s a tidy female that showed what neat 
ankles she had as Marie. By my soul, I envied you 
squeezing her. ‘What right has he to squeeze her?’ 
I said to myself, and then I thought if ” 

“But you haven’t told me how you came here,” 
said Oswin, interrupting him. 

“No more I did. It’s easily told, my lad. It 
was getting too warm for me in Melbourne, and 
as I had still got some cash I thought I’d take a 
run to New York city — at least that’s what I made 
up my mind to do when I awoke one fine morning 
in the cabin of the Virginia brig a couple of 
hundred miles from Cape Howe. I remembered 
going into a saloon one evening and finding a lot 
of men giving general shouts, but beyond that I 
had no idea of anything.” 

“ That’s your usual form, ” said Oswin. “ So you 
are bound for New York?” 

“ Yes, the skipper of the Virginia had made 
Natal one of his ports, and there we. put in yesterday, 
so I ran up to this town, under what you would 
call an inspiration, or I wouldn’t be here now ready 
to slip the tinsel from as many bottles of genuine 
Moet as you choose to order. But you — what about 
yourself? ” 

“ I am here, my Hal, to order as many bottles 


286 


DAIREEN. 


as you can slip the tinsel off,” cried Oswin, his face 
flushed more deeply than when it had been rouged 
before the footlights. 

“ Spoken in your old form, by heavens ! ” cried 
the other, leaping from the table. “You always 
were a gentleman amongst us, and you never 
failed us in the matter of drink. Hang me if I 
don’t let the Virginia brig go — to — to New York 
without me; Fll stay here in company of my best 
friend.” 

“Come along,” said Oswin, leaving the room. 
“Whether you go or stay we’ll have a night of 
it at the hotel.” 

They passed out together and walked up to the 
hotel, hearing all the white population discussing 
the dramatic performance of the evening, for it had 
created a considerable stir in the town. There was 
no moon, but the stars were sparkling over the dark 
blue of the hills that almost encircle the town. Tall 
Zulus stood as they usually do after dark, talking 
at the corners in their emphatic language, while 
here and there smaller white men speaking Cape 
Dutch passed through the streets smoking their 
native cigars. 

“Just what you would find in Melbourne or in 
the direction of Geelong, isn’t it, Oswin ? ” said the 
stranger, who had his arm inside Markham’s. 

“Yes, with a few modifications,” said Oswin. 

“Why, hang it all, man,” cried the other. “You 
aren’t getting sentimental, are you ? A fellow would 
think- from the way you’ve been talking in that low, 
hollow, parson’s tone that you weren’t glad I turned 
up. If you’re not, just say so. You won’t need to 
give Harry Despard a nod after you’ve given him 
a wink.” 

“ What an infernal fool you do make of yourself,” 
said Oswin. “ You know that I’m glad to have you 
beside me again, old fellow, — yes, devilish glad. 


DAIREEN. 


^87 

Confound it, man, do you fancy Fve no feeling — 
no recollection? Haven't we stood by each other 
in the past, and won’t we do it in the future?” 

“We will, by heavens, my lad! and hang me if I 
don’t smash anything that comes on the table to- 
night except the sparkling. And look here, the 
Virginia brig may slip her cable and be off to New 
York. I’ll stand by you while you stay here, my 
boy. Yes, say no more, my mind is made up.” 

“ Spoken like a man I ” cried Oswin, with a sudden 
start. “ Spoken like a man 1 and here we are at the 
hotel. We’ll have one of our old suppers together, 
Hal ” 

“ Or perish in the attempt,” shouted the other. 

The stranger went upstairs, while Oswin remain ,:d 
below to talk to the landlord about some matters 
that occupied a little time. 

Markham and Harwood had a sitting-room for 
their exclusive use in the hotel, but it was not into 
this room that Oswin brought his guest, it was into 
another apartment at a different quarter of the house. 
The stranger threw his hat into a corner and him- 
self down upon a sofa with his legs upon a chair 
that he had tilted back. 

“ Now we’ll have a general shout,” he said. “ Ask 
all the people in the house what they’ll drink. If 
you acted the Prince on the stage to-night. I’ll act 
the part here now. I’ve got the change of a hundred 
samples of the Sydney mint, and I want to ease 
myself of them. Yes, we’ll have a general shout.” 

“ A general shout in a Dutchman’s house ? My 
boy, this isn’t a Ballarat saloon,” said Oswin. “If 
we hinted such a thing we’d be turned into the 
street. Here is a bottle of the sparkling by way of 
opening the campaign. ” 

“ I’ll open the champagne and you open the 
campaign, good! The sight of you, Oswin, old 
fellow — well, it makes me feel that life is a joke. 


DAIREEN. 


28^ 

Fill up your glass and we’ll drink to the old 
times. And now tell me all about yourself. How 
did you light here, and what do you mean to 
do ? Have you had another row in the old 
quarter ? ” 

Oswin had drained his glass of champagne and 
had stretched himself upon the second sofa. His face 
seemed pale almost to ghastliness, as persons’ faces 
do after the use of rouge. He gave a short laugh 
when the other had spoken. 

“Wait till after supper,” he cried. “I haven’t 
a word to throw to a dog until after supper. ” 

“ Curse that Prince and his bluster on the stage ; 
you’re as hoarse as a rook now, Oswin,” remarked 
the stranger. 

In a brief space the curried crayfish and penguins’ 
^g’g’s, which form the opening dishes of a Cape 
supper, appeared ; and though Os win’s friend seemed 
to have an excellent appetite, Markham himself 
scarcely ate anything. It did not, however, appear 
that the stranger’s comfort was wholly dependent 
upon companionship. He ate and drank and talked 
loudly whether Oswin fasted or remained mute; but 
when the supper was removed and he had lighted a 
cigar, he poured out half a bottle of champagne into 
a tumbler, and cried, 

“Now, my gallant Prince, give us all your eventful 
history since you left Melbourne five months ago, 
saying you were going up country. Tell us how you 
came to this place, whatever its infernal Dutch 
name is. ” 

And Oswin Markham sitting at the table told him. 

But while this tete-a-tite supper was taking place 
at the hotel, the messroom of the Bayonetteers 
was alight and the regimental cook had excelled 
himself in providing dishes that were wholly English, 
without the least colonial flavour, for the officers 
and their guests, among whom was Harwood. 


DAIREEN. 


289 


Captain Howard^s apology for Markham was not 
freely accepted, more especially as Markham did 
not put in an appearance during the entire of the 
supper. Harwood was greatly surprised at his ab- 
sence, and the story of a friend having suddenly 
turned up he rejected as a thing devised as an 
excuse. He did not return to the hotel until late — 
more than an hour past midnight. He paused out- 
side the hotel door for some moments, hearing the 
sound of loud laughter and a hoarse voice singing 
snatches of different songs. 

“ What is the noisy party upstairs ? ” he asked of 
the man who opened the door. 

“ That is Mr. Markham and his friend, sir. They 
have taken supper together,” said the servant. 

Harwood did not express the surprise he felt. 
He took his candle, and went to his own room, and, 
as he smoked a cigar before going to bed, he heard the 
intermittent sounds of the laughter and the singing. 

“I shall have a talk with this old friend of Mr. 
Markham’s in the morning,” he said, after he had 
stated another of his problems to sleep over. 

Markham and he had been accustomed to break- 
fast together in their sitting-room since they had 
come up from Durban; but when Harwood awoke 
the next morning, and came in to breakfast, he 
found only one cup upon the table. 

“ Why is there not a cup for Mr. Markham ? ” he 
asked of the servant. 

“ Mr. Markham, sir, left with his friend for Durban 
at four o’clock this morning,” said the man. 

“ What, for Durban ? ” 

“Yes, sir. Mr. Markham had ordered a Cape 
cart and team to be here at that time. I thought 
you might have awakened as they were leaving.” 

“No, I did not,” said Mr. Harwood quietly; and 
the servant left the room. 

Here was something additional for the special 

‘9 


290 


DAIREEN. 


correspondent of the “ Dominant Trumpeter** to 
ponder over and reduce to the terms of a problem. 
He reflected upon his early suspicions of Oswin 
Markham. Had he not even suggested that Mark- 
ham’s name was probably something very different 
from what he had called himself? Mr. Harwood 
knew well that men have a curious tendency to call 
themselves by the names of the persons to whom 
bank orders are made payable, and he believed that 
such a subtle sympathy might exist between the 
man who had been picked up at sea and the docu- 
ment that was found in his possession. Yes, Mr. 
Harwood felt that his instincts were not perhaps 
wholly in error regarding Mr. Oswin Markham, 
cleverly though he had acted the part of the Prince 
in that stirring drama on the previous evening. 

On the afternoon of the following day, however, 
Oswin Markham entered the hotel at Pieter Maritzburg 
and walked into the room where Harwood was 
working up a letter for his newspaper, descriptive 
of life among the Zulus. 

“ Good heavens ! ” cried the “ special, ” starting up ; 
“I did not expect you back so soon. Why, you 
could only have stayed a few hours at the port.” 

“ It was enough for me,” said Oswin, a smile 
lighting up his pale face; “quite enough for me. 
I only waited to see the vessel with my friend 
aboard safely over the bar. Then I returned.” 

“You went away from here in something of a 
hurry, did you not, Markham?” 

Oswin laughed as he threw himself into a chair. 

“ Yes, something of a hurry. My friend is — let 
us say, eccentric. We left without going to bed 
the night before last. Never mind, Harwood, old 
fellow; he is gone, and here I am now, ready for 
anything you propose — an excursion across the 
Tugela or up to the Transvaal — anywhere —anywhere 
^’m free now and myself again.” 


DAIREEN. 


291 


“Free?* said Harwood curiously. “What do 
you mean by free? ” 

Oswin looked at him mutely for a moment, then 
he laughed, saying, 

“Free — yes, free from that wretched dramatic 
affair. Thank Heaven, ifs off nw mindl* 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

Horatio. My lord, Ihe King your father. 

Hamlet. The King — my father? 

Horatio. Season your admiration for a while. 

In what particular thought to work I know not; 

But in the gross and scope of mine opinion 
This bodes some strange eruption to our state. 

Our last King, 

Whose image even but now appear’d to us, 

... by a sealed compact 
Did forfeit ... all those his lands 
Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror. 

Hamlet. 

“My son,’" said The Macnamara, “you ought to 
be ashamed of your threatment of your father. The 
like of your threatment was never known in the 
family of the Macnamaras, or, for that matter, of 
the O’Dermots. A stain has been thrown upon the 
family that centuries can’t wash out.” 

“ It is no stain either upon myself or our family 
for me to have set out to do some work in the 
world,” said Standish proudly, for he felt capable 
of maintaining the dignity of labour. “ I told you 
that I would not pass my life in the idleness of 
Innishdermot. I ” 

“It’s too much for me, Standish O’Dermot Mac- 
namara — to hear you talk lightly of Innishdermot 
is too much for the blood of the representative of 
the ancient race. Don’t, my boy, don’t.” 


392 


DAIREEN. 


293 


“ I don’t talk lightly of it ; when you told me it 
was gone from us I felt it as deeply as anyone 
could feel it.” 

“ It’s one more wrong added to the grievances 
of our thrampled counthry,” cried the hereditary 
monarch of the islands with fervour. “ And yet you 
have never sworn an oath to be revenged. You even 
tell me that you mean to be in the pay of the nation 
that has done your family this wrong — that has 
thrampled The Macnamara into the dust. This is 
the bitterest stroke of all.” 

“I have told you all,” said Standish. “Colonel 
Gerald was kinder to me than words could express. 
He is going to England in two months, but only 
to remain a week, and then he will leave for the 
Castaway Islands. He has already written to have 
my appointment as private secretary confirmed, and 
I shall go at once to have everything ready for his 
arrival. It’s not much I can do, God knows, but 
what I can do I will for him. I’ll work my best.” 

“ Oh, this is bitter — bitter — to hear a Macnamara 
talk of work ; and just now too, when the money has 
come to us.” 

“I don’t want the money,” said Standish indig- 
nantly. 

“ Ye’re right, my son, so far. What signifies 
fifteen thousand pounds when the feelings of an 
ancient family are outraged?” 

“ But I can’t understand how those men had power 
to take the land, if you did not wish to give it to 
them, for their railway and their hotel.” 

“ It’s more of the oppression, my son — more 
of the thrampling of our counthry into the dust. I 
rejected their offers with scorn at first; but I found 
out that they could get power from the oppressors 
of our counthry to buy every foot of the ground at 
the price put on it by a man they call an arbi- 
thrator — so between thraitors and arbithrators I knew 


294 


DAIREEN. 


I couldn’t hold out. With tears in my eyes I signed 
the papers, and now all the land from the mouth 
of Suangorm to Innishdermot is in the hands of 
the English company — all but the castle — thank God 
they couldn’t wrest that from me. If you’d only been 
by me, Standish, I would have held out against them 
all ; but think of the desolate old man sitting amongst 
the ruins of his home and the tyrants with the 
gold — I could do nothing.” 

“And then you came out here. Well, father. I’m 
glad to see you, and Colonel Gerald will be so too, 
and — Daireen. ” 

“Aye,” said The Macnamara. “Daireen is here 
too. And have you been talking to the lovely 
daughter of the Geralds, my boy? Have you been 
confessing all you confessed to me, on that bright day 
at Innishdermot? Have you ” 

“Look here, father,” said Standish sternly; “you 
must never allude to anything that you forced me 
to say then. It was a dream of mine, and now it 
is past.” 

“You can hold your head higher than that now, 
my boy,” said The Macnamara proudly. “You’re 
not a beggar now, Standish ; money’s in the family. ” 

“As if money could make any difference,” said 
Standish. 

“ It makes all the difference in the world, my boy, ” 
said The Macnamara; but suddenly recollecting his 
principles, he added: “That is, to some people; 
but a Macnamara without a penny might aspire 
to the hand of the noblest in the land. Oh, here 
she comes — the bright snowdhrop of Glenmara — the 
arbutus-berry of Craig-Innish ; and her father too — 
oh, why did he turn to the Saxons?” 

The Macnamara, Prince of Innishdermot, Chief of 
the Islands and Lakes, and King of all Munster, was 
standing with his son in the coffee-room of the hotel, 
having just come ashore from the steamer that had 


DAIREEN. 


295 


brought him out to the Cape. The patriot had actually 
left his land for the first time in his life, and had 
proceeded to the colony in search of his son, and 
he found his son waiting for him at the dock 
gates. 

That first letter which Standish received from his 
father had indeed been very piteous, and if the 
young man had not been so resolute in his deter- 
mination to work, he would have returned to 
Innishdermot once more, to comfort his father in his 
trials. But the next mail brought a second com- 
munication from The Macnamara to say that he 
could endure no longer the desolation of the lonely 
hearth of his ancestral castle, but would set out in 
search of his lost offspring through all the secret 
places of the earth. Considering that he had posted 
this letter to the definite address of his offspring, the 
effect of the vagueness of his expressed resolution 
was somewhat lessened. 

Standish received the letter with dismay, and Colonel 
Gerald himself felt a little uneasiness at the prospect 
of having The Macnamara quartered upon him for 
an uncertain period. He was well aware of the 
largeness of the ideas of The Macnamara on many 
matters, and in regard to the question of colonial 
hospitality he felt that the views of the hereditary 
prince would be liberal to an inconvenient degree. 
It was thus with something akin to consternation 
that he listened to the eloquent letter which Standish 
read with flushed face and trembling hands. 

“We shall be very pleased to see The Macnamara 
here,” said Colonel Gerald; and Daireen laughed, 
saying she could not believe that Standish’s father 
would ever bring himself to depart from his kingdom. 
It was on the next day that Colonel Gerald had 
an interview of considerable duration with Standish 
on a matter of business, he said; and when it was 
over and the young man^s qualifications had been 


296 


DAIREEN. 


judged of, Standish found himself in a position either 
to accept or decline the office of private secretary 
to the new governor of the lovely Castaway group. 
With tears he left the presence of the governor, and 
went to his room to weep the fulness from his mind 
and to make a number of firm resolutions as to his 
future of hard work; and that very evening Colonel 
Gerald had written to the Colonial Office nominating 
Standish to the appointment; so that the matter was 
considered settled, and Standish felt that he did not 
fear to face his father. 

But when Standish had met The Macnamara on 
the arrival of the mail steamer a week after he had 
received that letter stating his intentions, the young 
man learned, what apparently could not be included 
in a letter without proving harassing to its eloquence, 
that the extensive lands along the coastway of the 
lough had been sold to an English company of 
speculators who had come to the conclusion that a 
railway made through the picturesque district would 
bring a fortune to everyone who might be so fortunate 
as to have money invested in the undertaking. So 
a railway was to be made, and a gigantic hotel built 
to overlook the lough. The shooting and fishing 
rights — in fact every right and every foot of ground, 
had been sold for a large sum to the company by 
The Macnamara. And though Standish had at first 
felt the news as a great blow to him, he subsequently 
became reconciled to it, for his father’s appearance 
at the Cape with several thousand pounds was 
infinitely more pleasing to him than if ihe represen- 
tative of The Macnamaras had come in his former 
condition, which was simply one of borrowing powers. 

“ It’s the snowdhrop of Glenmara, ” said The Mac- 
namara, kissing the hand of Daireen as he met her 
at the door of the room. “ And you, George, my 
boy, ” he continued, turning to her father ; “ I may 
shake hands with you as a friend, without the action 


BAIREEN. 


297 


being turned to mean that I forgive the threatment 
my counthry has received from the nation whose 
pay you are still in. Yes, only as a friend I shake 
hands with you, George.” 

“ That is a sufficient ground for me, Macnamara,” 
said the colonel. “We won’t go into the other 
matters just now.” 

“ I cannot believe that this is Cape Town,” said 
Daireen. “Just think of our meeting here to-day. 
Oh, if we could only have a glimpse of the dear 
old Slieve Docas ! ” 

“ Why shouldn’t you see it, white dove ? ” said 
The Macnamara in Irish to the girl, whose face 
brightened at the sound of the tongue that brought 
back so many pleasant recollections to her. “ Why 
shouldn’t you?” he continued, taking from one of 
the boxes of his luggage an immense bunch of 
purple heather in gorgeous bloom. “I gathered it 
for you from the slope of the mountain. It brings 
you the scent of the finest hill in the world.” 

The girl caught the magnificent bloom in both 
her hands and put her face down to it. As the 
first breath of the hill she loved came to her in this 
strange land they saw her face lighten. Then she 
turned away and buried her head in the scents of 
the hills — in the memories of the mountains and the 
lakes, while The Macnamara spoke on in the musical 
tongue that lived in her mind associated with all 
the things of the land she loved. 

“And Innishdermot, ” said Colonel Gerald at 
length, “how is the seat of our kings?” 

“ Alas, my counthry ! thrampled on — bethrayed — 
crushed to the ground ! ” said The Macnamara. “You 
won’t believe it, George — no, you won’t. They have 
spoiled me of all I possessed — they have driven 
me out of the counthry that my sires ruled when 
the oppressors were walking about in the skins of 
wild beasts. Yes, George, Innishdermot is taken 


DAIREEN. 


^ 9 ^ 

from me and Tve no place to shelter me.” 

Colonel Gerald began to look grave and to feel 
much graver even than he looked. The Macnamara 
shelterless was certainly a subject for serious con- 
sideration. 

“Yes,” said Standish, observing the expression 
on his face, “you would wonder how any company 
could find it profitable to pay fifteen thousand 
pounds for the piece of land. That is what the 
new railway people paid my father.” 

Once more the colonel’s face brightened, but The 
Macnamara stood up proudly, saying, 

“Pounds! What are pounds to the feelings of a 
true patriot? What can money do to heal the wrongs 
of a race?” 

“Nothing,” said the colonel; “nothing whatever. 
But we must hasten out to our cottage. I’ll get a 
coolie to take your luggage to the railway station. 
We shall drive out. My dear Dolly, come down from 
yonder mountain height where you have gone 
on wings of heather. I’ll take out the bouquet 
for you.” 

“ No,” said Daireen. “ I’ll not let anyone carry it 
for me. ” 

And they all went out of the hotel to the 
carriage. 

The mattre d'hdtel, who had been listening to 
the speech of The Macnamara in wonder, and had 
been finally mystified by the Celtic language, hastened 
to the visitors’ book in which The Macnamara had 
written his name; but this last step certainly did 
not tend to make everything clear, for in the book 
was written: 

“ Macnamara, Prince of the Isles, Chief of 
Innishdermot and the Lakes, and King of Munster.” 

“ And with such a nose 1 ” said the viattre 
d hotel. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


*Tis sweet and commendable in your nature. 

To give these . . . duties to your father. 

In that and all things will we show our du^. 

King. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes? . . . 

What wouldst thou have? 

Laertes, Your leave and favour to return. — Hamlet. 

To these four exiles from Erin sitting out on the 
stoep of the Dutch cottage after dinner very sweet 
it was to dream of fatherland. The soft light 
through which the broad-leaved, motionless plants 
glimmered was, of course, not to be compared with 
the long dwindling twilights that were wont to 
overhang the slopes of Lough Suangorm; and that 
mighty peak which towered above them, flanked 
by the long ridge of Table Mountain, was a poor 
thing in the eyes of those who had witnessed the 
glories of the heather-swathed Slieve Docas. 

The cries of the bullock waggoners, which were 
faintly heard from the road, did not interfere with 
the musings of any of the party, nor with the 
harangue of The Macnamara. 

Very pleasant it was to hear The Macnamara 
talk about his homeless condition as attributable 
to the long course of oppression persisted in by the 
Saxon Monarchy — at least so Colonel Gerald thought, 
for in a distant colony a harangue on the subject 
of British tyranny in Ireland does not sound very 


300 


DAIREEN. 


vigorous, any more than does a burning revolutionary 
ode when read a century or so after the revolution 
has taken place. 

But poor Standish, who had spent a good many 
years of his life breathing in of the atmosphere of 
harangue, began to feel impatient at his sire's 
eloquence. Standish knew very well that his father 
had made a hard bargain with the railway and 
hotel company that had bought the land; nay, he 
even went so far as to conjecture that the affec- 
tionate yearning which had caused The Macnamara 
to come out to the colony in search of his son 
might be more plainly defined as an impulse of 
prudence to escape from certain of his creditors 
before they could hear of his having received a 
large sum of money. Standish wondered how 
Colonel Gerald could listen to all that his father 
was saying when he could not help being conscious 
of the nonsense of it all, for the young man was 
not aware of the pleasant memories of his youth 
that were coming back to the colonel under the 
influence of The Macnamara’s speech. 

The next day, however, Standish had a conversation 
of considerable length with his father, and The 
Macnamara found that he had made rapid progress 
in his knowledge of the world since he had left his 
secluded home. In the face of his father he insisted 
on his father’s promising to remove from the Dutch 
cottage at the end of a few days. The Macnamara’s 
notions of hospitality were very large, and he could 
not see why Colonel Gerald should have the least 
feeling except of happiness in entertaining a shelterless 
monarch ; but Standish was firm, and Colonel Gerald 
did not resist so stoutly as The Macnamara felt he 
should have done; so that at the end of the week 
Daireen and her father were left alone for the first 
time since they had come together at the Cape. 

They found it very agreeable to be able to sit 


DAIREEN. 


501 


together and ride together and talk without reserve. 
Standish Macnamara was, beyond doubt, very good 
company, and his father was even more inclined to 
be sociable, but no one disputed the wisdom of the 
young man’s conduct in curtailing his visit and his 
father’s to the Dutch cottage. The Macnamara had his 
pockets filled with money, and as Standish knew 
that this was a strange experience for him, he 
resolved that the weight of responsibility which the 
preservation of so large a sum was bound to entail, 
should be reduced ; so he took a cottage at Ronde- 
bosch for his father and himself, and even went the 
length of buying a horse. The lordliness of the ideas 
of the young man who had only had a few months’ 
experience of the world greatly impressed his father, 
and he paid for everything without a murmur. 

Standish had, at the intervals of his father’s im- 
passioned discourses, many a long and solitary ride and 
many a lengthened reverie amongst the pines that 
grow beside The Flats. The resolutions he made as 
to his life at the Castaway group were very numerous, 
and the visions that floated before his eyes were 
altogether very agreeable. He was beginning to 
feel that he had accomplished a good deal of that 
ennobling hard work in the world which he had 
resolved to set about fulfilling. His previous reso- 
lutions had not been made carelessly : he had grappled 
with adverse Fate, he felt, and was he not getting 
the better of this contrary power? 

But not many days after the arrival of The Mac- 
namara another personage of importance made his 
appearance in Cape Town. The Bishop of the 
Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the Salaman- 
der Archipelago had at last found a vessel to convey 
him to where his dutiful son was waiting for him. 

The prelate felt that he had every reason to con- 
gratulate himself upon the opportuneness of his arrival, 
for Mr. Glaston assured his father, after the exuber- 


302 


DAIREEN. 


ancc of their meeting had passed away, that if the 
vessel had not appeared within the course of another 
week, he would have been compelled to defer the 
gratification of his filial desires for another year. 

“A colony is endurable for a week,” said Mr. 
Glaston ; “it is wearisome at the end of a fortnight; 
but a month spent with colonists has got a demoral- 
izing effect that years perhaps may fail to obliterate. ” 

The bishop felt that indeed he had every reason 
to be thankful that unfavourable winds had not 
prolonged the voyage of his vessel. 

Mrs. Crawford was, naturally enough, one of the 
first persons at. the Cape to visit the bishop, for she 
had known him years before — she had indeed known 
most Colonial celebrities in her time — and she took 
the opportunity to explain to him that Colonel Gerald 
had been counting the moments until the arrival 
of the vessel fi-om the Salamanders, so great was 
his anxiety to meet with the Metropolitan of that 
interesting cU*chipelago, with whom he had been 
acquainted a good many years before. This was very 
gratifying to the bishop, who liked to be remem- 
bered by his friends; he had an idea that even the 
bishop of a distant colony runs a chance of being 
forgotten in the world unless he has written an 
heretical book, so he was glad when, a few days 
after his arrival at Cape Town, he received a visit 
from Colonel Gerald and an invitation to dinner. 

This was very pleasing to Mrs. Crawford, for, 
of course, Algernon Glaston was included in the 
invitation, and she contrived without any difficulty 
that he should be seated by the side of Miss Gerald. 
Her skill was amply rewarded, she felt, when she 
observed Mr. Glaston and Daireen engaged in what 
sounded like a discussion on the musical landscapes 
of Liszt; to be engaged — even on a discussion of 
so subtle a nature — was something, Mrs. Crawford 
thought. 


DAIREEN. 


303 


In the course of this evening, she herself, while 
the bishop was smiling upon Daireen in a way that 
had gained the hearts, if not the souls, of the 
Salamanderians, got by the side of Mr. Glaston, 
intent upon following up the advantage the occasion 
offered. 

“ I am so glad that the bishop has taken a fancy 
to Daireen,” she said. “Daireen is a dear good 
girl — is she not?” 

Mr. Glaston raised his eyebrows and touched the 
extreme point of his moustache before he answered 
a question so pronounced. “ Ah, she is — improving, ” 
he said slowly. “If she leaves this place at once 
she may improve still.” 

“She wants someone to be near her capable of 
moulding her tastes — don’t you think ? ” 

“ She needs such a one. I should not like to say 
wants,'" remarked Mr. Glaston. 

“I am sure Daireen would be very willing to 
learn, Mr. Glaston; she believes in you, I know,” 
said Mrs. Crawford, who was proceeding on an 
assumption of the broad principles she had laid down 
to Daireen regarding the effect of flattery upon the 
race. But her words did not touch Mr. Glaston 
deeply : he was accustomed to be believed in by girls. 

“She has taste — some taste,” he replied, though 
the concession was not forced from him by Mrs. 
Crawford’s revelation to him. “Yes; but of what 
value is taste unless it is educated upon the true 
principles of Art?” 

“Ah, what indeed?” 

“Miss Gerald’s taste is as yet only approaching 
the right tracks of culture. One shudders, anticipating 
the effect another month of life in such a place as 
this may have upon her. For my own part, I do 
not suppose that I shall be myself again for at least 
a year after I return. I feel my taste utterly demor- 
alized through the two months of my stay here; 


304 


daipt?:en. 


and I explained to my father that it will be neces- 
sary for him to resign his see if he wishes to have 
me near him at all. It is quite impossible for me 
to come out here again. The three months’ absence 
from England that my visit entails is ruinous to me. ” 

“ I have always thought of your self-sacrifice as an 
example of true filial duty, Mr. Glaston. I know 
that Daireen thinks so as well.” 

But Mr. Glaston did not seem particularly anxious 
to talk of Daireen. 

“Yes; my father must resign his see,” he con- 
tinued. “ The month I have just passed has left too 
terrible recollections behind it to allow of my running 
a chance of its being repeated. The only person I 
met in the colony who was not hopelessly astray 
was that Miss Vincent.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Mrs. Crawford, almost shocked, “ Oh, 
Mr. Glaston! you surely do not mean that! Good 
gracious! — Lottie Vincent!” 

“ Miss Vincent was the only one who, I found, had 
any correct idea of Art ; and yet, you see, how she 
turned out.” 

“Turned out? I should think so indeed. Lottie 
Vincent was always turning out since the first time 
I met her.” 

“Yes; the idea of her acting in company of such 
a man as this Markham — a man who had no hesitation 
in going to view a picture by candlelight — it is too 
distressing. ” 

“My dear Mr. Glaston, I think they will get on 
very well together. You do not know Lottie Vincent 
as I know her. She has behaved with the most 
shocking ingratitude towards me. But we are parted 
now, and I shall take good care she does not impose 
upon me again.” 

“ It scarcely matters how one’s social life is 
conducted if one’s artistic life is correct” said Mr, 
Glaston. 


DAIREEN. 


305 


At this assertion, which she should have known 
to be one of the articles of Mr. Glaston’s creed, 
Mrs. Crawford gave a little start She thought it 
better, however, not to question its soundness. As 
a matter of fact, the bishop himself, if he had heard 
his son enunciate such a precept, would not have 
questioned its soundness; for Mr. Glaston spake as 
one having authority, and most people whose 
robustness was not altogether mental, believed his 
Gospel of Art 

“ No doubt what you say is — ah — very true,” said 
Mrs. Crawford. “But I do wish, Mr. Glaston, that 
you could find time to talk frequently to Daireen 
on these subjects. I should be so sorry if the dear 
child’s ideas were allowed to run wild. Your influence 
might work wonders with her. There is no one 
here now who can interfere with you.” 

“Interfere with me, Mrs. Crawford?” 

“ I mean, you know, that Mr. Harwood, with his 
meretricious cleverness, might possibly — ah — well, 
you know how easily girls are led.” 

“ If there would be a possibility of Miss Gerald’s 
being influenced in a single point by such a man 
as that Mr. Harwood, I fear not much can be hoped 
for her,” said Mr. Glaston. 

“We should never be without hope,” said Mrs. 
Crawford. “For my own part, I hope a great deal 
— a very great deal — from your influence over 
Daireen; and I am exceedingly happy that the bishop 
seems so pleased with her.” 

The good bishop was indeed distributing his bene- 
dictory smiles freely, and Daireen came in for a 
share of his favours. Her father wondered at the 
prodigality of the churchman’s smiles; for as a chap- 
lain he was not wont to be anything but grave. 
The colonel did not reflect that while smiling may 
be a grievous fault in a chaplain, it can never be 
an)dliing but ornamental to a bishop. 


20 


3o6 


DAIREEN. 


A few days afterwards Mrs. Crawford called 
upon the bishop, and had an interesting conver- 
sation with him on the subject of his son’s future — a 
question to which of late the bishop himself had 
given a good deal of thought; for in the course 
of his official investigations on the question of 
human existence he had been led to believe that 
the duration of life has at all times been uncertain; 
he had more than once communicated this fact 
to dusky congregations, and by reducing the 
application of the painful truth, he had come to feel 
that the life of even a throned bishop is not exempt 
from the fatalities of mankind. As the bishop’s son 
was accustomed to spend half of the revenues of his 
father’s see, his father was beginning to have an 
anxiety about the future of the young man; for he 
did not think that his successor to the prelacy of 
the Calapash Islands would allow Mr. Glaston to 
draw, as usual, upon the income accruing to the 
office. The bishop was not so utterly unworldly in 
his notions but that he knew there exist other means 
of amassing wealth than by writing verses in a 
pamphlet-magazine, or even composing delicate 
impromptus in minor keys for one’s own hearing. 
His son had not felt it necessary to occupy his mind 
with any profession, so that his future was somewhat 
difficult to foresee with any degree of clearness. 

Mrs. Crawford, however, spoke many comforting 
words to the bishop regarding a provision for his 
son’s future. Daireen Gerald, she assured him, besides 
being one of the most charming girls in the world, 
was the only child of her father, and her father’s 
estates in the South of Ireland were extensive and 
profitable. 

When Mrs. Crawford left him, the bishop felt glad 
I that he had smiled so frequently upon Miss Gerald. 
He had heard that no kindly smile was bestowed in 
,vain, but the truth of the sentiment had never before 


DAIREEN. 


307 


SO forced itself upon his mind. He smiled again in 
recollection of his previous smiles. He felt that 
indeed Miss Gerald was a charming girl, and Mrs. 
Crawford was most certainly a wonderful woman; 
and it can scarcely be doubted that the result of the 
bishop’s reflections proved the possession on his 
part of powerful mental resources, enabling him 
to arrive at subtle conclusions on questions of 
perplexity. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

Too much of water had’st thou, poor Ophelia. 

How can that be unless she drowned herself? 

If the man go to this water ... it is, will he, niU he, he goes; 
mark you that. — Hamlet. 

Standish Macnamara had ridden to the Dutch 
cottage, but he found it deserted. Colonel Gerald, 
one of the servants informed him, had early in the 
day driven to Simon’s Town, and had taken Miss 
Gerald with him, but they would both return in the 
evening. Sadly the young man turned away, and 
it is to be feared that his horse had a hard time of 
it upon The Flats. The waste of sand was congenial 
with his mood, and so was the rapid motion. 

But while he was riding about in an aimless way, 
Daireen and her father were driving along the lovely 
road that runs at the base of the low hills which 
form a mighty causeway across the isthmus between 
Table Bay and Simon’s Bay. Colonel Gerald had 
received a message that the man-of-war which had 
been stationed at the chief of the Castaway group 
had called at Simon’s Bay ; he was anxious to know 
how the provisional government was progressing 
under the commodore of those waters whose green 
monotony is broken by the gentle cliffs of the 
Castaways, and Daireen had been allowed to accom- 
pany her father to the naval station. 

3 *« 


DAIREEN. 


309 


The summer had not yet advanced sufficiently 
far to make tawny the dark green coarse herbage 
of the hill-side, and the mass of rich colouring lent 
by the heaths and the prickly-pear hedges made 
Daireen almost jealous for the glories of the slopes 
of Glenmara. For some distance over the road the 
boughs of Australian oaks in heavy foliage were 
leaning; but when Constantia and its evenly set 
vineyards were passed some distance, Daireen heard 
the sound of breaking waves, and in an instant 
afterwards the road bore them down to the water’s 
edge at Kalk Bay, a little rocky crescent enclos- 
ing green sparkling waves. Upon a pebbly beach 
a few fishing-boats were drawn up, and the outlying 
spaces were covered with drying nets, the flavour 
of which was much preferable to that of the drying 
fish that were near. 

On still the road went until it lost itself upon the 
mighty beaches of False Bay. Down to the very 
brink of the great green waves that burst in white 
foam and clouds of mist upon the sand the team 
of the wagonette was driven, and on along the 
snowy curve for miles until Simon’s Bay and its 
cliffs were reached, and the horses were pulled up 
at the hotel in the single street of Simon’s Town 
at the base of the low ridge of the purple hill. 

“You will not be lonely, Dolly,” said Colonel 
Gerald as he left the hotel after lunch to meet the 
commander of the man-of-war of which the yellow- 
painted hull and long streaming pennon could be 
seen from the window, opposite the fort at the 
farthest arm of the bay. 

“ Lonely ? ” said the girl. “ I hope I may, for I 
feel I would like a little loneliness for a change. I 
have not been lonely since I was at Glenmara listening 
to Murrough O’Brian playing a dirge. Run away 
now, papa, and you can tell me when we are driving 
home what the Castaways are really like.” 


DAIREEN. 


310 


• I’ll make particular enquiries as to the possibilities 
of lawn tennis,” said her father, as he went down 
the steps to the red street. 

Daireen saw a sergeant’s party of soldiers carry 
arms to the colonel, though he wore no uniform 
and had not been at this place for years; but even 
less accustomed observers than the men would have 
known that he was a soldier. Tall, straight, and 
with bright gray eyes somewhat hollower than they 
had been twenty years before, he looked a soldier 
in every point — one who had served well and who 
had yet many years of service before him. 

How noble he looked, Daireen thought, as he 
kissed his hand up to her. And then she thought 
how truly great his life had been. Instead of coming 
home after his time of service had expired, he had 
continued at his post in India, unflinching beneath 
the glare of the sun overhead or from the scorching 
of the plain underfoot; and here he was now, not 
going home to rest for the remainder of his life, 
but ready to face an arduous duty on behalf of his 
country. She knew that he had been striving through 
all these years to forget in the work he was accom- 
plishing the one grief of his life. She had often 
seen him gazing at her face, and she knew why 
he had sighed ais he turned away. 

She had not meant to feel lonely in her father’s 
absence, but her thoughts somehow were not of that 
companionable kind which, coming to one when 
alone, prevent one’s feeling lonely. 

She picked up the visitors’ book and read all the 
remarks that had been written in English for the 
pcist years ; but even the literature of a hotel visitors’ 
book fails at some moments to relieve a reader’s 
mind. She turned over the other volumes, one of 
which was the Commercial Code of Signals, and 
the other a Dutch dictionary. She read one of Mr. 
Harwood’s letters in a back number of the “ Domi- 


DAIREEN. 


3 ” 


nant Trumpeter,” and she found that she could 
easily recall the circumstances under which, in 
various conversations, he had spoken to her every 
word of that column and a quarter. She wondered 
if special correspondents write out every night all 
the remarks that they have heard during the day. 
But even the attempt to solve this problem did not 
make her feel brisk. 

What was the thought which was hovering about 
her, and which she was trying to avoid by all the 
means in her power ? She could not have defined 
it. The boundaries of that thought were too vague 
to be outlined by words. 

She glanced out of the window for a while, and 
then walked to the door and looked over the iron 
balcony at the head of the steps. Only a few 
people were about the street. Gazing out seawards, 
she saw a signal flying from the peak of the man- 
of-war, and in a few minutes she saw a boat put 
off and row steadily for the shore near the far-off 
fort at the headland. She knew the boat was to 
convey her father aboard the vessel. She stood 
there watching it until it had landed and was on 
its way back with her father in the stem. 

Then she went along the road until she had left 
the limits of the town, and was standing between 
the hill and the sea. Very lovely the sea looked 
from where it was breaking about the rocks beneath 
her, out to the horizon which was undefined in the 
delicate mist that rose from the waters. 

She stood for a long time tasting of the fresh- 
ness of the breeze. She could see the man-of-war’s 
boat making its way through the waves until it at 
last reached the ship, and then she seemed to have 
lost the object of her thoughts. She turned off the 
road and got upon the sloping beach along which 
she walked some distance. 

She had met no one since she had left the hotel, 


312 


DAIREEN. 


and the coast of the Bay round to the farthest 
headland seemed deserted; but somehow her mood 
of loneliness had gone from her as she stood at 
the brink of those waters whose music was as the 
sound of a song of home heard in a strange land. 
What was there to hinder her from thinking that 
she was standing at the uttermost headland of Lough 
Suangorm, looking out once more upon the Atlantic? 

She crossed a sandy hollow and got upon a ledge 
of rocks, up to which the sea was beating. Here 
she seated herself, and sent her eyes out seawards 
to where the war-ship was lying, and then that 
thought which had been near her all the day came 
upon her. It was not of the Irish shore that the 
glad waters were laving. It was only of some 
words that had been spoken to her. “ For a month 
we will think of each other,” were the words, and 
she reflected that now this month had passed. The 
month that she had promised to think of him had 
gone, but it had not taken with it her thoughts of 
the man who had uttered those words. 

She looked out dreamily across the green waves, 
wondering if he had returned. Surely he would 
not let a day pass without coming to her side to 
ask her if she had thought of him during the month. 
And what answer would she give him? She smiled. 

“ Love, my love, ” she said, “ when have I 
ceased to think of you? When shall I cease to 
think of you?” 

The tears forced themselves into her eyes with 
the pure intensity of her passion. She sat there 
dreaming her dreams and thinking her thoughts 
until she seemed only to hear the sound of the 
waters of the distance; the sound of the breaking 
waves seemed to have passed away. It was this 
sudden consciousness that caused her to awake from 
her reverie. She turned and saw that the waves 
were breaking on the beach behind her — the rock 


DAIREEN. 


313 


where she was sitting was surrounded with water, 
and every plunge of the advancing tide sent a swirl 
of water through the gulf that separated the rocks 
from the beach. 

In an instant she had started to her feet. She 
saw the death that was about her. She looked to' 
the rock where she was standing. The highest 
ledge contained a barnacle. She knew it was below 
the line of high water, and now not more than a 
couple of feet of the ledge were uncovered. A 
little cry of horror burst from her, and at the same 
instant the boom of a gun came across the water 
from the man-of-war; she looked and saw that the 
boat was on its way to the shore again. In another 
half minute a second report sounded, and she knew 
that they were firing a salute to her father. They 
were doing this while his daughter was gazing at 
death in the face. 

Could they see her from the boat? It seemed 
miles away, but she took off her white jacket and 
standing up waved it. Not the least sign was made 
from the boat. The report of the guns echoed along 
the shore mingling with her cries. But a sign was 
given from the water: a wave flung its spray clear 
over the rock. She knew what it meant. 

She saw in a moment what chance she had of 
escape. The water between the rock and the shore 
was not yet very deep. If she could bear the brunt 
of the wild rush of the waves that swept into the 
hollow she could make her way ashore. 

In an instant she had stepped down to the water, 
still holding on by the rocks. A moment of still- 
ness came and she rushed through the waves, but 
that sand — it sank beneath her first step, and she 
fell backwards, then came another swirl of eddying 
waves that plunged through the gulf and swept her 
away with their force, out past the rock she had 
been on. One cry she gave as she felt herself lost. 


DAIREEN. 


3H 

The boom of the saluting gun doing honour to 
her father was the sound she heard as the cruel 
foam flashed into her face. 

But at her cry there started up from behind a 
rock far ashore the figure of a man. He looked 
about him in a bewildered way. Then he made a 
rush for the beach, seeing the toy the waves were 
heaving about. He plunged in up to his waist. 

“ Damn the sand ! ” he cried, as he felt it yield. 
He bent himself against the current and took ad- 
vantage of every relapse of the tide to rush a few 
steps onward. He caught the rock and swung him- 
self round to the seaward side. Then he waited 
until the next wave brought that helpless form near 
him. He did not leave his hold of the rock, but 
before the backward sweep came he clutched the 
girl’s dress. Then came a struggle between man 
and wave. The man conquered. He had the girl 
on one of his arms, and had placed her upon the 
rock for an instant. Then he swung himself to the 
shoreward side, caught her up again, and stumbling, 
and sinking, and battling with the current, he at 
last gained a sound footing. 

Daireen was exhausted but not insensible. She 
sat upon the dry sand where the man had placed 
her, and she drew back the wet hair from her face. 
Then she saw the man stand by the edge of the 
water and shake his fist at it. 

“It’s not the first time I’ve licked you single- 
handed, ” he said, “ and it’ll not be the last. Y our bully- 
ing roar won’t wash here. ” Then he seemed to catch 
sight of something on the top of a wave. “Hang 
me if you’ll get even her hat,” he said, and once 
more he plunged in. The hat was farther out than 
the girl had been, and he had more trouble in 
securing it Daireen saw that his head was covered 
more than once, and she was in great distress. At 
last, however, he struggled to the beach with the 


DAIREEN. 


315 


hat in his hand. It was very terrible to the girl to 
see him turn, squeezing the water from his hair, and 
curse the sea and all that pertained to it. 

Suddenly, however, he looked round and walked 
up to where she was now standing. He handed her 
the hat as though he had just picked it up from the 
sand. Then he looked at her. 

“ Miss, ” he said, “ I believe I’m the politest man 
in this infernal colony; if I was rude to you just 
now I ask your pardon. I’m afraid I pulled you 
about* 

“You saved me from drowning,” said Daireen. 
“ If you had not come to me I should be dead 
now. ” 

“I didn’t do it for your sake,” said the man. 
“ I did it because that’s my enemy” — he pointed to the 
sea — “and I wouldn’t lose a chance of having a 
shy at him. It’s my impression he’s only second 
best this time again. Never mind. How do you 
feel, miss?” 

“ Only a little tired, * said Daireen. “ I don’t think 
I could walk back to the hotel.” 

“ You won’t need, ” said the man. “ Here 
comes a Cape cart and two ancient swells in it. If 
they don’t give you a seat, I’ll smash the whole 
contrivance. ” 

“ Oh! ” cried Daireen, joyfully; “ it is papa — papa 
himself.” 

“Not the party with the brass buttons ?* said the 
man. “All right. I’ll hail them.” 

Colonel Gerald sprang from the Cape cart in which 
he was driving with 3ie commodore of the naval 
station. 

“ Good God, Daireen, what does this mean ? ” 
he cried, looking from the girl to the man beside 
her. 

But Daireen, regardless of her dripping condition, 
threw herself into his arms, and the stranger turned 


DAIREEN. 


316 

away whistling. He reached the road and shook his 
head confidentially at the commodore, who was 
standing beside the Cape cart. 

“Touching thing to be a father, eh. Admiral?” 
he said. 

“Stop, sir,” said the commodore. “You must 
wait till this is explained. ” 

“Must I?” said the man. “Who is there here 
that will keep me ? ” 

“What can I say to you, sir?” cried Colonel 
Gerald, coming up and holding out his hand to the 
stranger. “I have no words to thank you.” 

“Well, as to that, General,” said the man, “it 
seems to me the less that’s said the better. Take 
my advice and get the lady something to drink — 
anything that teetotallers won’t allow is safe to be 
wholesome. ” 

“ Come to my house,” said the commodore. “ Miss 
Gerald will find everything there. ” 

“You bet you’ll find something in the spirituous 
way at the admiral’s quarters, miss,” remarked the 
stranger, as Daireen was helped into the vehicle. 
“No, thank you. General, I’ll walk to the hotel 
where I put up.” 

“ Pray let me call upon you before I leave,” said 
Colonel Gerald. 

“Delighted to see you, General; if you come 
within the next two hours, I’ll slip the tinsel off a 
bottle of Most with you. Now, don’t wait here. If 
you had got a pearly stream of salt water running 
down your spine you wouldn’t wait; would they, 
miss? Aw revaw.” 


CHAPTER XXXVL 


I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion 
of my sudden and more strange return. 

O lim^d soul, that, struggling to be free. 

Art more engaged. 

Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may 
be. — Ham let. 

Quite three hours had passed before Colonel Gerald 
was able to return to the hotel. The stranger was 
sitting in the coffee-room with a tumbler and a 
square bottle of cognac in front of him as the colonel 
entered. 

“ Ah, General, ” cried the stranger, “ you are come. 
I was sorry I said two hours, you know, because, 
firstly, I might have known that at the admiral’s 
quarters the young lady would get as many doses 
as would make her fancy something was the matter 
with her; and, secondly, because I didn’t think that 
they would take three hours to dry a suit of tweed 
like this. You see it, General; this blooming suit 
is a proof of the low state of morality that exists 
in this colony. The man I bought it from took an 
oath that it wouldn’t shrink, and yet, just look at it. 
It’s a wicked world this we live in. General. I went 
to bed while the suit was being dried, and I 
believe they kept the fire low so that they may 
charge me with the bed. And how is the young 
lady?” 


317 


DAIREEN. 


318 

“ I am happy to say that she has quite recovered 
from the effects of her exhaustion and her wetting, ” 
said Colonel Gerald. “Had you not been near, 
and had you not had that brave heart you showed, 
my daughter would have been lost. But I need 
not say anything to you — you know how I feel.” 

“We may take it for granted,” said the man. 
“Nothing that either of us could say would make 
it plainer, at any rate. You don’t live in this city. 
General? ” 

“No, I live near Cape Town, where I am now 
returning with my daughter,” said Colonel Gerald. 

“ That’s queer, ” said the man. “ Here am I too 
not living here and just waiting to get the post-cart 
to bring me to Cape Town.” 

“ I need scarcely say that I should be delighted 
if you would accept a seat with me,” remarked the 
colonel. 

“Don’t say that if there’s not a seat to spare, 
General.” 

“ But, my dear sir, we have two seats to spare. 
Can I tell my man to put your portmanteau in ? ” 

“Yes, if he can find it,” laughed the stranger. 
“ Fact is, General, I haven’t any property here except 
this tweed suit two sizes too small for me now. 
But these trousers have got pockets, and the pockets 
hold a good many sovereigns without bursting. I 
mean to set up a portmanteau in Cape Town. Yes, 
I’ll take a seat with you so far.” 

The stranger was scarcely the sort of man Colonel 
Gerald would have chosen to accompany him under 
ordinary circumstances, but now he felt towards the 
rough man who had saved the life of his daughter 
as he would towards a brother. 

The wagonette drove round to the commodore’s 
house for Daireen, and the stranger expressed very 
frankly the happiness he felt at finding her nothing 
the worse for her accident. 


DAIREEN. 


310 


And indeed she did not seem to have suiFered 
greatly ; she was a little paler, and the commodore’s 
people insisted on wrapping her up elaborately. 

“It was so very foolish of me,” she said to the 
stranger, when they had passed out of Simon’s Town 
and were going rapidly along the road to Wynberg. 
“ It was so very foolish indeed to sit down upon 
that rock and forget all about the tide. I must 
have been there an hour.” 

“Ah, miss,” said the man, “I’ll take my oath it 
wasn’t of your pa you were thinking all that time. 
Ah, these young fellows have a lot to answer for.” 

This was not very subtle humour, Colonel Gerald 
felt; he found himself wishing that his daughter had 
owed her life to a more refined man; but on the 
whole he was just as glad that a man of sensitive- 
ness had not been in the place of this coarse stranger 
upon that beach a few hours before. 

“ I don’t think I am wrong in believing that you 
have travelled a good deal,” said Colonel Gerald, 
in some anxiety lest the stranger might pursue his 
course of humorous banter. 

“ Travelled ? ” said the stranger. “ Perhaps I have. 
Yes, sir, I have travelled, not excursionized. I’ve 
knocked about God’s footstool since I was a boy, 
and yet it seems to me that I’m only beginning my 
travels. I’ve been ” 

And the stranger continued telling of where he 
had been until the oak avenue at Mowbray was 
reached. He talked very freshly and frankly of 
every place both in the Northern and Southern 
hemispheres. The account of his travels was very 
interesting, though perhaps to the colonel’s servant 
it was the most entertaining. 

“ I have taken it for granted that you have no 
engagement in Cape Town,” said Colonel Gerald 
as he turned the horses down the avenue. “We shall 
be dining in a short time, and I hope you will join us.” 


320 


DAIREEN. 


“I don’t want to intrude, General,” said the man, 
“ But I allow that I could dine heartily without 
going much farther. As for having an appointment 
in Cape Town — I don’t know a single soul in the 
colony — not a soul, sir — unless — why, hang it all, 
who’s that standing on the walk in front of us? — 
I’m a liar, General; I do know one man in the 
colony; there he stands, for if that isn’t Oswin 
Markham I’ll eat him with relish.” 

“It is indeed Markham,” said Colonel Gerald. 
“ And you know him ? ” 

“ Know him ? ” the stranger laughed. “ Know 
him?” then as the wagonette pulled up beside where 
Markham was standing in front of the house, the 
stranger leapt down, saying, as he clapped Oswin 
on the shoulder, “ The general asks me if I know you, 
old boy ; answer for me, will you? ” 

But Oswin Markham was staring blankly from 
the man to Daireen and her father. 

“You told me you were going to New York,” 
he said at last. 

“ And so I was when you packed me aboard the 
Virginia brig so neatly at Natal, but the Virginia 
brig put into Simon’s Bay and cut her cable one 
night, leaving me ashore. It’s Providence, Oswin 
— Providence.” 

Oswin had allowed his hand to be taken by the 
man, who was the same that had spent the night 
Ivith him in the hotel at Pieter Maritzburg. Then 
he turned as if from a fit of abstraction, to Daireen 
and the colonel. 

“I beg your pardon a thousand times,” he said. 
“But this meeting with Mr. Despard has quite 
startled me.” 

“Mr. Despard,” said the colonel, “I must ever 
look on as one of my best friends, though we met 
to-day for the first time. I owe him a debt that 
I can never repay — my daughter’s life.” 


DAIREEN. 


321 


Oswin turned and grasped the hand of the man 
whom he had called Mr. Despard, before they entered 
the house together. 

Daireen went in just before Markham; they had 
not yet exchanged a sentence, but when her father 
and Despard had entered one of the rooms, she 
turned, saying, 

“ A month — a month yesterday.” 

“ More, ” he answered ; “ it must be more. ” 

The girl laughed low as she went on to her 
room. But when she found herself apart from 
everyone, she did not laugh. She had her own 
preservation from death to reflect upon, but it occupied 
her mind less than the thought that came to her 
shaping itself into the words, “He has returned.” 

The man of whom she was thinking was standing 
pale and silent in a room where much conversation 
was floating, for Mr. Harwood had driven out with 
Markham from Cape Town, and he had a good 
deal to say on the Zulu question, which was beginning 
to be no question. The Macnamara had also come 
to pass the evening with Colonel Gerald, and he 
was not silent. Oswin watched Despard and the 
hereditary monarch speaking together, and he saw 
them shake hands. Harwood was in close conversa- 
tion with Colonel Gerald, but he was not so utterly 
absorbed in his subject but that he could notice how 
Markham’s eyes were fixed upon the stranger. The 
terms of a new problem were suggesting themselves 
to Mr. Harwood. 

Then Daireen entered the room, and greeted Mr. 
Harwood courteously — much too courteously for his 
heart’s desire. He did not feel so happy as he should 
have done, when she laughed pleasantly and reminded 
him of her prophecy as to his safe return. He felt 
as he had done on that morning when he had said 
good-bye to her: his time had not yet come. But 
what was delaying that hour he yearned for? She 


2 


322 


DAIREEN. 


was now standing beside Markham, looking up to 
his face as she spoke to him. She was not smiling 
at him. What could these things mean ? Harwood 
asked himself — Lottie Vincent’s spiteful remark with 
reference to Daireen at the lunch that had taken 
place on the hill-side in his absence — Oswin’s remark 
about not being strong enough to leave the associa- 
tions of Cape Town — this quiet meeting without 
smiles or any of the conventionalities of ordinary 
acquaintance — what did all these mean? Mr. Har- 
wood felt that he had at last got before him the 
terms of a question the working out of which was 
more interesting to him than any other that could 
be propounded. And he knew also that this man 
Despard was an important auxiliary to its satisfactory 
solution. 

“ Dove of Glenmara, let me look upon your sweet 
face again, and say that you are not hurt, ” cried The 
Macnamara, taking the girl by both her hands and 
looking into her face. “ Thank God you are left to 
be the pride of the old country. We are not here 
to weep over this new sorrow. What would life be 
worth to us if anything had happened to the pulse 
of our hearts? Glenmara would be desolate and Slieve 
Docas would sit in ashes.” 

The Macnamara pressed his lips to the girl’s 
forehead as a condescending monarch embraces a 
favoured subject. 

“Bravo, King! you’d make a fortune with that 
sort of sentiment on the boards; you would, by 
heavens ! ” said Mr. Despard with an unmodulated 
laugh. 

The Macnamara seemed to take this testimony 
as a compliment, for he smiled, though the remark 
did not appear to strike anyone else as being imbued 
with humour. Harwood looked at the man curiously ; 
but Markham was gazing in another direction without 
any expression upon his face. 


DAIREEN. 


323 


In the course of the evening the Bishop of the 
Calapash Islands dropped in. His lordship had 
, taken a house in the neighbourhood for so long as 
he would be remaining in the colony; and since 
he had had that interview with Mrs. Crawford, his 
visits to his old friend Colonel Gerald were numerous 
and unconventional. He, too, smiled upon Daireen 
in his very pleasantest manner, and after hearing 
from the colonel — who felt perhaps that some little 
explanation of the stranger’s presence might be neces- 
sary — of Daireen’s accident, the bishop spoke a few 
words to Mr. Despard and shook hands with him — an 
honour which Mr. Despard sustained without emotion. 

In spite of these civilities, however, this evening 
was unlike any that the colonel’s friends had spent 
at the cottage. The bishop only remained for about 
an hour, and Harwood and Markham soon afterwards 
took their departure. 

“ I’ll take a seat with you, Oswin, my boy, ” said 
Despard. “We’ll be at the same hotel in Cape 
Town, and we may as well all go together.” 

And they did all go together. 

“Fine fellow, the colonel, isn’t he?” remarked 
Despard, before they had got well out of the avenue. 
“I called him general on chance when I saw him 
for the first time to-day — you’re never astray in 
beginning at general and working your way down, 
with these military nobs. And the bishop is a fine 
old boy too — rather too much palm-oil and glycerine 
about him, though — too smooth and shiny for my 
taste. I expect he does a handsome trade amongst 
the Salamanders. A smart bishop could make a 
fortune there, I know. And then the king — the 
Irish king as he calls himself — well, may be he’s 
the best of the lot.” 

There did not seem to be anything in Mr. Despard’s 
opening speech that required an answer. There was a 
considerable pause before Harwood remarked quietly ; 


324 


DAIREEN. 


“By the way, Mr. Despard, I think I saw you 
some time ago. I have a good recollection for 
faces. ” 

“ Did you ? ” said Despard. “ Where was it ? At 
’Frisco or Fiji? South Carolina or South Australia? ” 

“ I am not recalling the possibilities of such far- 
away memories,” said Harwood. “ But if I don’t 
mistake, you were the person in the audience at 
Pieter Maritzburg who made some remark compli- 
mentary to Markham.” 

The man laughed. “You are right, mister. I 
only wonder I didn’t shout out something before, 
for I never was so taken aback as when I saw him 
come out as that Prince. A shabby trick it was 
you played on me the next morning, Oswin — I say 
it was infernally shabby. You know what he did, 
mister: when I had got to the outside of more than 
one bottle of Moet, and so wasn’t very clear-headed, 
he packed me into one of the carts, drove me to 
Durban before daylight, and sent me aboard the 
Virginia brig that I had meant to leave. That 
wasn’t like friendship, was it? ” 

But upon this delicate question Mr. Harwood did 
not think it prudent to deliver an opinion. Markham 
himself was mute, yet this did not seem to have 
a depressing effect upon Mr. Despard. He gave a 
resume of the most important events in the voyage 
of the Virginia brig, and described very graphi- 
cally how he had unfortunately become insensible 
to the fact that the vessel was leaving Simon’s Bay 
on the previous morning; so that when he awoke, 
the Virginia brig was on her way to New York 
city, while he was on a sofa in the hotel surrounded 
by empty bottles. 

When Markham was alone with this man in a 
room at the hotel at Cape Town, Despard became 
even more talkative. 

“ By heavens, Oswin, ” he said, “ you have changed 


DAIREEN. 


325 


your company a bit since you were amongst 
us; generals, bishops, and kings — kings, by Jingo — 
seem to be your chums here. Well, don’t you think 
that I don’t believe you to be right. You were 
never of our sort in Australia — we all felt you to 
be above us, and treated you so — making a pigeon 
of you now and again, but never looking on our- 
selves as your equal. By heavens, I think now 
that I have got in with these people and seem to 
get on so well with them, I’ll turn over a new 
leaf.” 

“Do you mean to stay here longer than this 
week ? ” asked Oswin. 

“ This week ? I’ll not leave for another month — 
another six months, may be. I’ve money, my boy, 
and — suppose we have something to drink — something 
that will sparkle?” 

“ I don’t mean to drink anything, ” Oswin replied. 

“You must have something,” Despard insisted. 
“ You must admit that though the colonel is a glorious 
old boy, he didn’t do the hospitable in the liquid 
way. But I’ll keep in with the lot of them. I’ll 
go out to see the colonel and his pretty daughter 
now and again. Ah, by George, that pretty daughter 
seems to have pla3^ed the mischief with some of 
the young fellows about here. ‘Sir,’ says the king 
of Ireland to me, ‘I fale more than I can till ye: 
the swate girl ye saved is to be me sonn’s broide.’ 
This looked well enough for the king, and we got 
very great friends, as you saw. But then the bishop 
comes up to me and, says he, ‘Sir, allow me to 
shake you by the hand. You do not know how I 
feel towards that young lady who owes her life to 
your bravery.’ I looked at him seriously: ‘Bishop,’ 
said I, ‘ I can’t encourage this sort of thing. You 
might be her father.’ Well, my boy, you never 
saw an^^thing so flustered as that bishop became; 
it was more than a minute before he could tell me 


326 


DAIREEN. 


that it was his son who had the tender heart about 
the girl. That bishop didn't ask me to dine with 
him ; though the king did, and Tm going out to him 
to-morrow evening.” 

“You are going to him?” said Markham. 

“ To be sure I am. He agreed with me about the 
colonel's hospitality in the drink way. ‘You'll find 
it different in my house,' said the king; and I think 
you know, Oswin, that the king and me have one 
point in common.” 

“ Good-night,” said Markham, going to the door. 
“ No, I told you I did not mean to drink anything.” 

He left Mr. Despard on the sofa smoking the first 
of a box of cigars he had just ordered. 

“ He's chcinged — that boy is, ” said Despard. “ He 
wouldn't have gone out in that fashion six months 
ago. But what the deuce has changed him? that's 
what Td like to know. He wants to get me away 
from here — that's plain — plain? by George, it's ugly. 
But here I am settled for a few montlis at least 
if — hang that waiter, is he never going to bring me 
that bottle of old Irish?” 


CHAPTER XXXVn. 


Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! 
You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you 
would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me 
from my lowest note to the top of my compass. . . . ’S blood, do 
you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what 
instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play 
upon me. — Hamlet. 

Os WIN Markham sat in his own room in the hotel. 
The window was open, and through it from the 
street below ‘ came the usual sounds of Cape Town — 
terrible Dutch mingling with Malay and dashed with 
Kafir. It was not the intensity of a desire to listen 
to this polyglot mixture that caused Markham to 
go upon the balcony and stand looking out to the 
night. 

He reflected upon what had passed since he had 
been in this place a month before. He had gone 
up to Natal, and in company of Harwood he had had 
a brief hunting expedition. He had followed the 
spoor of the gemsbok over veldt and through kloof, 
sleeping in the house of the hospitable boers when 
chance offered; but all the time he had been pos- 
sessed of one supreme thought — one supreme hope 
that made his life seem a joyous thing — he had 
looked forward to this day — the day when he would 
have returned, when he would again be able to look 
into the face that moved like a phantom before him 
wherever he went And he had returned — for 


328 


DAIREEN. 


this — this looking, not into her face, but into the 
street below him, while he thought if it would not 
be better for him to step out beyond the balcony — 
out into the blank that would follow his casting of 
himself down. 

He came to the conclusion that it would not be 
better to step beyond the balcony. A thought 
seemed to strike him as he stood out there. He 
returned to his chamber and threw himself on his 
bed, but he did not remain passive for long; once 
more he stepped into the air, and now he had need 
to wipe his forehead with his handkerchief. 

It was an hour afterwards that he undressed 
himself; but the bugle at the barracks had sounded 
a good many times before he fell asleep. 

Mr. Harwood, too, had an hour of reflection when 
he went to his room ; but his thoughts were hardly 
of the excitable type of Markham’s ; they had, 
however, a definite result, which caused him to seek 
out Mr. Despard in the morning. 

Mr. Despard had just finished a light and salu- 
tary breakfast consisting of a glass of French brandy 
in a bottle of soda-water, and he was smoking 
another sample of that box of cigars on the balcony. 

“ Good morning to you, mister, ” he said, nodding 
as Harwood came, as if by chance, beside him. 

“ Ah, how do you do ?” said Harwood. “ Enjoying 
your morning smoke, I see. Well, I hope you are 
nothing the worse for your plunge yesterday.” 

“No, sir, nothing; I only hope that Missy out 
there will be as sound. I don’t think they insisted 
on her drinking enough afterwards.” 

“Ah, perhaps not. Your friend Markham has 
not come down yet, they tell me.” 

“He was never given to running ties with the 
Bun,” said Mr. Despard. 

“ He told me you were a particular friend of his 
in Australia? ” continued Mr. Harwood. 


DAIREEN. 


329 

“ Yes, men very soon get to be friends out there ; 
but Oswin and myself were closer than brothers in 
every row and every lark.” 

“ Of which you had, no doubt, a good many? ” 

“ A good few, yes ; a few that wouldn’t do to be 
printed specially as prizes for young ladies’ boarding- 
schools — not but what the young ladies would read 
them if they got the chance.” 

“Few fellows would care to write their auto- 
biographies and go into the details of their life, ” said 
Harwood. “ I suppose you got into trouble now and 
again ? ” 

“Trouble? Well, yes, when the money ran short, 
and there was no balance at the bank; that’s real 
trouble, let me tell you.” 

“It certainly is; but I mean, did you not some- 
times need the friendly offices of a lawyer after a wild 
few days?” 

“Sir,” said Despard, throwing away the end of 
his cigar, “ if your idea of a wild few days is house- 
breaking or manslaughter, it wasn’t ours, I can tell 
you. No, my boy, we never took to bushranging ; 
and though I’ve had my turn with Derringer’s small 
cannons when I was at Chokeneck Gulch, it was 
only because it was the custom of the country. No, 
sir; Oswin, though he seems to have turned against 
me here, will still have my good word, for I swear 
to you he never did anything that made the place too 
hot for him, though I don’t suppose that if he was in a 
competitive examination for a bishopric the true 
account of his life in Melbourne would help him greatly. ” 

“There are none of us here who mean to be 
bishops,” laughed Harwood. “But I understood 
from a few words Markham let fall that — well, never 
mind, he is a right good fellow, as I found when 
we went up country together a couple of weeks ago. 
By the way, do you mean to remain here long, Mr. 
Despard ? ” 


330 


DAIREEN. 


“Life is short, mister, and I’ve learned never to 
make arrangements very far in advance. I’ve about 
eighty sovereigns with me, and I’ll stay here till 
they’re spent.” 

“Then your stay will be proportionate to your 
spending powers.” 

“ In an inverse ratio, as they used to say at school, ” 
said Despard, 

When Mr. Harwood went into the room he 
reflected that on the whole he had not gained much 
information from Mr. Despard; and Mr. Despard 
reflected that on the whole Mr. Harwood had not 
got much information by his system of leading 
questions. 

About half an hour afterwards Markham came 
out upon the balcony, and gave a little unaccount- 
able start on seeing its sole occupant. 

“ Hallo, my boy ! have you turned up at last ? ” 
cried Despard. “ Our good old Calapash friend will 
tell you that unless you get up with the lark you’ll 
never do anything in the world. You should have 
been here a short time ago to witness the hydraulic 
experiments,” 

“ The what ? ” said Markham. 

“ Hydraulic experiments. The patent pump of 
the ‘Dominant Trumpeter’ was being tested upon 
me. Experiments failed, not through any incapacity 
of the pump, but through the contents of the reser- 
voir worked upon not running free enough in the 
right direction.” 

“Was Mr. Harwood here?” 

“He was, my boy. And he wanted to know 
all about how we lived in Melbourne.” 

“And you told him ” 

“To get up a little earlier in the morning when 
he wants to try his pumping apparatus. But what 
made you give that start? Don’t you know that 
all I could tell would be some of our old larks, and 


DAIREEN. 


331 


he wouldn’t have thought anything the worse of 
you on account of them? Hang it all, you don’t 
mean to say you’re going into holy orders, that you 
mind having any of the old times brought back? 
If you do, I’m afraid that it will be awkward for 
you if I talk in my ordinary way. I won’t bind 
myself not to tell as many of our larks as chime in 
with the general conversation. I only object on 
principle to be pumped.” 

“ Talk away, ” said Os win spasmodically. “ Tell 
of all our larks. How could I be affected by 
anything you may tell of them ? ” 

“ Bravo! That’s what I say. Larks are larks. 
There was no manslaughter nor murder. No, there 
was no murder.” 

“ No, there was no murder,” said Markham. 

The other burst into a laugh that startled a Malay 
in the street below. 

“ By heavens, from the way you said that one 
would fancy there had been a murder,” he cried. 

Then there was a long pause, which was broken 
by Markham. 

“You still intend to go out to dine with that 
man you met yesterday?” he said. 

“ Don’t call him a man, Oswin; you wouldn’t call 
a bishop a man, and why call a king one. Yes, 
I have ordered a horse that is said to know the 
way across those Flats without a pocket com- 
pass. ” 

“ Where did you say the house was ? ” 

“ It’s near a place called Rondebosch. I remember 
the locality well, though it’s ten years since I 
was there. The shortest way back is through a 
pine-wood at the far end of The Flats — you know 
that place, of course.” 

“I know The Flats. And you mean to come 
through the pine-wood?” 

“ I do mean it. It’s a nasty place to ride through. 


332 


DAIREEN. 


but the horse always goes right in a case like that, 
and I’ll give him his head.” 

“ Take care that you have your own at that time,” 
said Markham. “ The house of the Irishman is not 
like Colonel Gerald’s.” 

“I hope not, for a more thirsty evening I never 
spent than at your friend’s cottage. The good 
society hardly made up for the want of drink. It 
put me in mind of the story of the man that found 
the pearls when he was starving in the desert. 
What • are bishops and kings to a fellow if he is 
thirsty ? ” 

“ You will leave the house to return here between 
eleven and twelve, I suppose ? ” said Oswin. 

“ Well, I should say that about eleven will see 
me on my way.” 

“And you will go through the pine- wood?” 

“I will, my boy, and across The Flats until I 
pass the little river — it’s there still, I suppose. And 
now suppose I buy you a drink ? ” 

But Oswin Markham declined to be the object 
of such a purchase. He went back to his own roo_m, 
and threw himself on his bed, where he remained 
for more than an hour. Then he rose and wiped 
his forehead. 

He pulled down some books that he had bought, 
and tried to read bits of one or two. He sat dili- 
gently down as if he meant to go through a day’s 
reading, but he did not appear to be in the mood 
for applying himself to anything. He threw the 
books aside and turned over some newspapers; but 
these did not seem to engross him any more than 
the books had done. He lay back in his chair, and 
after a while his restlessness subsided: he had fallen 
asleep. 

It was the afternoon before he awoke with a 
sudden start. He heard the sound of voices in the 
street below his window. He went forward, and. 


DAIREEN. 


333 


looking out, was just in time to see Harry Despard 
mounting his horse at the hotel door. 

“ I will be back about midnight,” he said to the 
porter of the hotel, and then he trotted off. 

Markham heard the sound of the horse^s hoofs 
die away on the street, and he repeated the man’s 
words : 

“ About midnight 


CHAPTER XXXVnL 


To desperation turn my trust and hope. 

What if this cursed hand 

Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood, 

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 

To wash it white as snow? 

I’ll have prepared him 

A chalice for the nonce whereon but sipping 

. . . he . . . 

Chaunted snatches of old tunes, 

As one incapable. 

The drink — the drink — . . . the foul practice 

Hath turned itself on me; lo, here I lie . . . 

I can no more : the King — the King’s to blame. — Hamlet. 

OswiN Markham dined at the hotel late in the 
evening, and when he was in the act Harwood came 
into the room dressed for a dinner-party at Green- 
point to which he had been invited. 

“Your friend Mr. Despard is not here?” said 
Harwood, looking around the room. “ I wanted to 
see him for a moment to give him a few words of advice 
that may be useful to him. I wish to goodness you 
would speak to him, Markham ; he has been swag- 
gering about in a senseless way, talking of having 
his pockets full of sovereigns, and in the hearing 
of every stranger that comes into the hotel. In the 
bar a few hours ago he repeated his boast to the 
Malay who brought him his horse. Now, for heaven’s 

334 


DAIREEN. 


335 


sake, tell him that unless he wishes particular!}'' to 
have a bullet in his head or a khris in his body- 
some of these nights, he had better hold his tongue 
about his wealth — that is what I meant to say to 
him.” 

“ And you are right, ” cried Os win, starting up 
suddenly. “ He has been talking in the hearing of 
men who would do anything for the sake of a few 
sovereigns. What more likely than that some of them 
should follow him and knock him down? That 
will be his end, Harwood.” 

“It need not be,” replied Harwood. “If you 
caution him, he will most likely regard what you 
say to him.” 

“I will caution him — if I see him again,” said 
Markham ; then Harwood left the room, and Mark- 
ham sat down again, but he did not continue his 
dinner. He sat there staring at his plate. “What 
more likely ? ” he muttered. “ What more likely 
than that he should be followed and murdered by 
some of these men? If his body should be found 
with his pockets empty, no one could doubt it.” 

He sat there for a considerable time — until the 
streets had become dark; then he rose and went 
up to his own room for a while, and finally he put 
on his hat and left the hotel. 

He looked at his watch as he walked to the 
railway station, and saw that he would be just in 
time to catch a train leaving for Wynberg. He 
took a ticket for the station on the Cape Town side 
of Mowbray, where he got out. 

He walked from the station to the road and again 
looked at his watch: it was not yet nine o’clock; 
and then he strolled aside upon a little foot-track 
that led up the lower slopes of the Peak above 
Mowbray. The night was silent and moonless. 
Upon the road only at intervals came the rumbling 
of bullock waggons and the shouts of the Kafir 


336 


DAIREEN. 


drivers. The hill above him was sombre and un- 
touched by any glance of light, and no breeze stirred 
up the scents of the heath. He walked on in the 
silence until he had come to the ravine of silver 
firs. He passed along the track at the edge and 
was soon at the spot where he had sat at the feet 
of Daireen a month before. He threw himself down 
on the short coarse grass just as he had done then, 
and every moment of the hour they had passed 
together came back to him. Every word that had 
been spoken, every thought that had expressed itself 
upon that lovely face which the delicate sunset light 
had touched — all returned to him. 

What had he said to her? That the past life he 
had lived was blotted out from his mind? Yes, he 
had tried to make himself believe that ; but now how 
Fate had mocked him! He had been bitterly forced 
to acknowledge that the past was a part of the 
present. His week so full of bitterest suffering had 
not formed a dividing line between the two lives he 
fancied might be his. 

“ Is this the justice of God? ” he cried out now to 
the stars, clasping his hands in agony above his 
head. “ It is unjust. My life would have been pure 
and good now, if I had been granted my right of 
forgetfulness. But I have been made the plaything 
of God.” He stood with his hands clasped on his 
head for long. Then he gave a laugh. “ Bah 1 ” he 
said ; “ man is master of his fate. I shall do myself 
the justice that God has denied me.” 

He came down from that solemn mount, and 
crossed the road at a nearer point than the Mowbray 
avenue. He soon found himself by the brink of 
that little river which flowed past Rondebosch and 
Mowbray. He got beneath the trees that bordered 
its banks, and stood for a long time in the dead 
silence of the night. The mighty dog-lilies were like 
pictures beneath him; and only now and again came 


DAIREEN. 


337 


some of those mysterious sounds of mght — the 
rustling of certain leaves when all the remainder were 
motionless, the winnowing of the wings of some 
night creature whose form remained invisible, the 
sudden stirring of ripples upon the river without a 
cause being apparent — the man standing there heard 
all, and all appeared mysterious to him. He 
wondered how he could have so often been by 
night in places like this, without noticing how 
mysterious the silence was — how mysterious the 
strange sounds. 

He walked along by the bank of the slow river, 
until he was just opposite Mowbray. A little bridge 
with rustic rails was, he knew, at hand, by which 
he would cross the stream — for he must cross it. 
But before he had reached it, he heard a sound. 
He paused. Could it be possible that it was the 
sound of a horse’s hoofs? There he waited until 
something white passed from under the trees and 
reached the bridge, standing between him and the 
other side of the river — something that barred his 
way. He leant against the tree nearest to him, for 
he seemed to be falling to the ground, and then 
through the stillness of the night the voice of 
Daireen came singing a snatch of song — his song. 
She was on the little bridge and leaning upon the rail. 
In a few moments she stood upright, and listlessly 
walked under the trees where he was standing, though 
she could not see him. 

“ Daireen, ” he said gently, so that she might not 
be startled; and she was not startled, she only 
walked backwards a few steps until she was again 
at the bridge. 

“ Did anyone speak ? ” she said almost in a whisper. 
And then he stood before her while she laughed 
with happiness. 

“Why do you stand there?” he said in a tone 
of wonder. “ What was it sent you to stand 


22 


338 


DAIREEN. 


there between me and the other side of that 
river? ” 

“I said to papa that I would wait for him here. 
He went to see Major Crawford part of the way to 
the house where the Crawfords are staying; but 
what can be keeping him from returning I don’t 
know. I promised not to go further than the 
avenue, and I have just been here a minute.” 

He looked at her standing there before him. “ Oh 
God! oh God!” he said, as he reflected upon what 
his own thoughts had been a moment before. 
“Daireen, you are an angel of God — that angel 
which stood between the living and the dead. Stay 
near me. Oh, child! what do I not owe to you? my 
life — the peace of my soul for ever and ever. 
And yet — must we speak no word of love together, 
Daireen? ” 

“Not one — here,” she said. “Not one — only — 
ah, my love, my love, why should we speak of 
it? It is all my life — I breathe it — I think it — it is 
myself. ” 

He looked at her and laughed. “This moment 
is ours,” he said with tremulous passion. “God 
cannot pluck it from us. It is an immortal moment, 
if our souls are immortal. Child, can God take you 
away from me before I have kissed you on the 
mouth?” He held her face between his hands and 
kissed her. “ Darling, I have taken your white soul 
into mine,” he said. 

Then they stood apart on that bridge. 

“And now,” she said, “you must never frighten 
me with your strange words again. I do not know 
what you mean sometimes, but then that is because I 
don’t know very much. I feel that you are good 
and true, and I have trusted you.” 

“I will be true to you,” he said gently. “I 
will die loving you better than any hope man 
has of heaven. Daireen, never dream, whatever 


DAIREEN. 


339 


may happen, that I shall not love you while my soul 
lives. ” 

“I will believe you,’' she said; and then voices 
were heard coming down the lane of aloes at the 
other side of the river — voices and the sound of a 
horse’s hoofs. Colonel Gerald and Major Crawford 
were coming along leading a horse, across whose 
saddle lay a black mass. Os win Markham gave a start. 
Then Daireen’s father hastened forward to where she 
was standing. 

“Child,” he said quickly, “go back — go back 
to the house. I will come to you in a few 
minutes. ” 

“What is the matter, papa?” she asked. “No 
one is hurt? — Major Crawford is not hurt?” 

“ No, no, he is here ; but go, Daireen — go at 
once. ” 

She turned and went up the avenue without a 
word. But she saw that Oswin was not looking at 
her — that he was grasping the rail of the bridge while 
he gazed to where the horse with its burden stood 
a few yards away among the aloes. 

“ I am glad you chance to be here, Markham, ” said 
Colonel Gerald hurriedly. “ Something has happened 
— that man Despard ” 

“ Not dead — not murdered ! ” gasped Oswin, clutch- 
ing the rail with both hands. 

“Murdered? no; how could he be murdered? he 
must have fallen from his horse among the trees.” 

“And he is dead — he is dead?” 

“ Calm yourself, Markham, ” said the colonel ; “ he 
is not dead.” 

“Not in that sense, my boy,” laughed Major 
Crawford. “By gad, if we could leave the brute 
up to the neck in the river here for a few hours I 
fancy he would be treated properly. Hold him 
steady, Markham.” 

Oswin put his hand mechanically to the feet of 


340 


DAIREEN. 


the man who was lying helplessly across the saddle. 

“Not dead, not dead,” he whispered. 

“ Only dead drunk, unless his skull is fractured, 
my boy,” laughed the major. “ We’ll take him to 
the stables, of course, George?” 

“No, no, to the house,” said Colonel Gerald. 

“ Run on and get the key of the stables, George,” 
said the major authoritatively. “ Don’t you suppose 
in any way that your house is to be turned into an 
hospital for dipsomaniacs. Think of the child.” 

Colonel Gerald made a little pause, and then 
hastened forward to awaken the groom to get the 
key of the stables, which were some distance from 
the cottage. 

“By gad, Markham, I’d like to spill the brute 
into that pond,” whispered the major to Os win, as 
they waited for the colonel’s return. 

“How did you find him? Did you see any 
accident?” asked Os win. 

“We met the horse trotting quietly along the 
avenue without a rider, and when we went on among 
the trees we found the fellow lying helpless. George 
said he was killed, but I knew better. Irish whisky, 
my boy, was what brought him down, and you will 
find that I am right.” 

They let the man slide from the saddle upon a 
heap of straw when the stable door was opened by 
the half-dressed groom. 

“Not dead. Jack?” said Colonel Gerald as a lan- 
tern was held to the man’s face. Only the major 
was looking at the man; Markham could not trust 
himself even to glance towards him. 

“ Dead ? ” said the major. “ Why, since we have laid 
him down I have heard him frame three distinct oaths. 
Have you a bucket of water handy, my good man ? 
No, it needn’t be particularly clean. Ah, that will do. 
Now, if you don’t hear a choice selection of colonial 
blasphemy, he’s dead and, by gad, sir, so am I.” 


DAIREEN. 


341 


The major’s extensive experience of the treatment 
of colonial complaints had, as the result proved, led 
him to form a correct if somewhat hasty diagnosis 
of the present case. Not more than a gallon of the 
water had been thrown upon the man before he 
recovered sufficient consciousness to allow of his 
expressing himself with freedom on the subject of 
his treatment. 

“I told you so,” chuckled the major. “Fill the 
bucket again, my man.” 

Colonel Gerald could only laugh now that his 
fears had been dispelled. He hastened to the house 
to tell Daireen that there was no cause for alarm. 

By the time the second bucketful had been applied, 
in pursuance of the major’s artless system of resus- 
citation, Despard was sitting up talking of the 
oppressions under which a certain nation was 
groaning. He was sympathetic and humorous in 
turn; weeping after particular broken sentences, and 
chuckling with laughter after other parts of his 
speech. 

“The Irish eloquence and the Irish whisky have 
run neck and neck for the fellow’s soul,” said the 
major. “If we hadn’t picked him up he would 
be in a different state now. Are you going back 
to Cape Town to-night, Markham?” 

“I am,” said Oswin. 

“That’s lucky. You mustn’t let George have his 
way in this matter. This brute would stay in the 
cottage up there for a month.” 

“ He must not do that,” cried Markham eagerly. 

“No, my boy; so you will drive with him in the 
Cape cart to the hotel. He will give you no trouble 
if you lay him across the floor and keep your feet 
well down upon his chest Put one of the horses 
in, my man,” continued the major, turning to the 
groom. “You will drive in with Mr. Markham, and 
bring the cart back.” 


342 


DAIREEN. 


Before Colonel Gerald had returned from the 
house a horse was harnessed to the Cape cart, 
Despard had been lifted up and placed in an easy 
attitude against one of the seats. And only a feeble 
protest was offered by the colonel. 

“ My dear Markham, ” he said, “ it was very lucky 
you were passing where my daughter saw you. 
You know this man Despard — how could I have 
him in my house ?” 

“ In your house ! ” cried Markham. “ Thank God 
I was here to prevent that.” 

The Cape cart was already upon the avenue and 
the lamps were lighted. But a little qualm seemed 
to come to the colonel. 

“Are you sure he is not injured — that he has 
quite recovered from any possible effects ? ” he said. 

Then came the husky voice of the man. 

“ Go’night, king, go’night. Tm alright — horse 
know’s way. We’re tram’led on, king — ’pressed 
people — but wormil turn — wormil turn — never mind 
— Go’save Ireland — green flag litters o’er us — tread 
th’ land that bore us — go’night.” 

The cart was in motion before the man’s words 
had ceased. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


Look you lay home to him : 

Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with. 

What to ourselves in passion we propose, 

The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. 

I must leave thee, love . . , 

And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, 
Honour’d, belov’d, and haply one as kind 
For husband shalt thou — 

Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife. — Hamlet. 


OswiN Markham lay awake nearly all that night 
after he had reached the hotel. His thoughts were 
not of that even nature whose proper sequence is 
sleep. He thought of all that had passed since he 
had left the room he was lying in now. What had 
been on his mind on leaving this room — what had 
his determination been? 

“For her,” he said; “for her. It would have 
been for her. God keep me — God pity me!” 

The morning came with the sound of marching 
soldiers in the street below ; with the cry of bullock- 
waggon-drivers and the rattle of the rude carts; 
with the morning and the sounds of life — the break- 
ing of the deadly silence of the night — sleep came 
to the man. 

It was almost midday before he awoke, and for 
some time after opening his eyes he was powerless 
to recollect anything that had happened during the 

343 


344 


DAIREEN. 


night; his awakening now was as his return to con- 
sciousness on board the Cardwell Castle ^ — a great 
blank seemed to have taken place in his life — the 
time of unconsciousness was a gulf that all his efforts 
of memory could not at first bridge. 

lie looked around the room, and his first con- 
sciousness was the recollection of what his thoughts 
of the previous evening had been when he had slept 
in the chair before the window and had awakened 
to see Despard ride away. He failed at once to 
remember anything of the interval of night; only 
with that one recollection burning on his brain he 
looked at his right hand. 

In a short time he remembered everything. He 
knew that Despard was in the hotel. He dressed 
himself and went downstairs, and found Harwood 
in the coffee-room, reading sundry documents with 
as anxious an expression of countenance as a special 
correspondent ever allows himself to assume. 

“ What is the news ? ” Markham asked, feeling 
certain that something unusual had either taken 
place or was seen by the prophetical vision of Har- 
wood to be looming in the future. 

“War,” said Harwood, looking up. “ War, 
Markham. I should never have left Natal. They 
have been working up to the point for the last few 
months, as I saw; but now there is no hope for a 
peaceful settlement.” 

“ The Zulu chief is not likely to come to terms 
now?” said Markham. 

“ Impossible, ” replied the other. “ Quite impossible. 
In a few days there will, no doubt, be a call for 
volunteers.” 

“For volunteers ? ” Markham repeated. “ You will 
go up country at once, I suppose?” he added. 

“Not quite as a volunteer, but as soon as I receive 
my letters by the mail that arrives in a few days, 
I shall be off to Durban, at any rate,” 


DAIREEN. 


345 


“And you will be glad of it, no doubt. You 
told me you liked doing war-correspondence.* 

“Did I?” said Harwood; and after a little pause 
he added slowly: “It’s a tiring life this I have been 
leading for the past fifteen years, Markham. I seem 
to have cut myself off from the sympathies of life. 
I seem to have been only a looker-on in the great 
struggles — the great pleasures — of life. I am sup- 
posed to have no more sympathies than Babbage’s 
calculator that records certain facts without emotion, 
and I fancied I had schooled myself into this cold 
apathy in looking at things; but I don’t think I 
have succeeded in cutting myself off from all sym- 
pathies. No, I shall not be glad of this war. Never 
mind. By the way, are you going out to Dr. Glas- 
ton’s to-night?” 

“ I have got a card for his dinner, but I cannot 
tell what I may do. I am not feeling myself, 
just now.” 

“You cejl^iinly don’t look yourself, Markham. 
You are ha‘ggard, and as pale as if you had not 
got any sleep for nights. You want the constitution 
of your fiiend Mr. Despard, who is breakfasting in 
the bar.” 

“ What, is it possible he is out of his room? ” 
cried Markham, in surprise. 

“ Why, he was waiting here an hour ago when 
I came down, and in the meantime he had been 
buying a suit of garments he said, that gallant 
check of his having come to grief through the night. ” 

Harwood spoke the words at the door and then 
he left the room. 

Oswin was not for long left in solitary occupation, 
however, for in a few moments the door was flung 
open, and Despard entered with a half-empty tumbler 
in his hand. He came forward with a little chuckling 
laugh and stood in front of Oswin without speaking. 
He looked with his blood-shot eyes into Oswin’s 


346 


DAIREEN. 


cold pale face, and then burst into a laugh so hearty 
that he was compelled to leave the tumbler upon 
the table, not having sufficient confidence in his 
ability to grasp it under the influence of his excite- 
ment. Then he tapped Markham on the shoulder, 
crying : 

“ Well, old boy, have you got over that lark of 
last night? Like the old times, wasn’t it? You did 
the fatherly by me, I believe, though hang me if 
I remember what happened after I had drunk the 
last glass of old Irish with our friend the king. 
How the deuce did I get in with the teetotal 
colonel who, the boots has been telling me, lent 
me his cart? That’s what I should like to know. 
And where were you, my boy, all the night ? ” 

“ Despard,” said Markham, "I have borne with 
your brutal insults long enough. I will not bear 
them any longer. When you have so disgraced both 
yourself and me as you did last night, it is time to bring 
matters to a climax. I cannot submiM|khave you 
thrust yourself upon my friends as yaH|hve done. 
You behaved like a brute.” 

Despard seated himself and wiped his eyes. “ I 
did behave like a brute, ” he said. " i always do, I know 
— and you know too. Os win. Never mind. Tell 
me what you want — what am I to do? ” 

“You must leave the colony,” said Oswin quickly, 
almost eagerly. “I will give you money, and a 
ticket to England to-day. You must leave this place 
at once.” 

“And so I will — so I will,” said the man from 
behind his handkerchief. “ Yes, yes, Oswin, I’ll 
leave the colony — I will — when I become a teeto- 
taller.” He took down his handkerchief, and put 
it into his pocket with a hoarse laugh. “ Come, my 
boy, ” he said in his usual voice, “ come ; we’ve had 
quite enough of that sort of bullying. Don’t think 
you’re talking to a boy, Master Oswin. Who looks 


DAIREEN. 


347 


on a man as anything the worse for getting drunk 
now and again? You don’t; you can’t afford to. 
How often have I not helped you as you helped me ? 
Tell me that.” 

“ In the past — the accursed past,” said Os win, “ I 
may have made myself a fool — yes, I did, but God 
knows that I have suffered for it. Now all is 
changed. I was willing to tolerate you near me 
since we met this time, hoping that you would 
think fit, when you were in a new place and amongst 
new people, to change your way of life. But last 
night showed me that I was mistaken. You can 
never be received at Colonel Gerald’s again.” 

“Indeed?” said the man. “You should break 
the news gently to a fellow. You might have thrown 
me into a fit by coming down like that. Hark you 
here, Mr. Markham. I know jolly well that I will 
be received there and welcomed too. I’ll be received 
everywhere as well as you, and hang me, if I don’t 
go everyy^here. These people are my friends as 
well as yours. I’ve done more for them than ever 
you did, and they know that.” 

“ Fool, fool ! ” said Oswin bitterly. 

“ We’U see who’s the fool, my boy. I know my 
advantage, don’t you be afraid. The Irish king has 
a son, hasn’t he? well, I was welcome with him 
last night. The Lord Bishop of Calapash has another 
blooming male offspring, and though he hasn’t given 
me an invite to his dinner this evening, yet, hang 
me, if he wouldn’t hug me if I went with the rest 
of you swells. Hang me, if I don’t try it at any 
rate — it wdll be a lark at least. Dine with a bishop 
— by heaven, sir, it would be a joke — 111 go, oh. 
Lord, Lord ! ” Oswin stood motionless looking at 
him. “Yes,” continued Despard, “I’ll have a jolly 
hour with his lordship the bishop. I’ll fill up my 
glass as I did last night, and we’ll drink the same 
toast together — we’ll drink to the health of the 


348 


DAIREEN. 


Snowdrop of Glenmara, as the king called her when 
he was very drunk ; we’ll drink to the fair Daireen. 
Hallo, keep your hands off! — Curse you, you’re 
choking me ! There ! ” Oswin, before the girl’s name 
had more than passed the man’s lips, had sprung 
forward and clutched him by the throat; only by 
a violent effort was he cast off, and now both men 
stood trembling with passion face to face. 

“What the deuce do you mean by this sort of 
treatment?” cried Despard. 

“ Despard, ” said Oswin slowly, “ you know me 
a little, I think. I tell you if you ever speak that 
name again in my presence you will repent it. You 
know me from past experience, and I have not 
utterly changed.” 

The man looked at him with an expression that 
amounted to wonderment upon his face. Then he 
threw himself back in his chair, and an uncontroll- 
able fit of laughter seized him. He lay back 
and almost yelled with his insane laughter. When 
he had recovered himself and had wiped the tears 
from his eyes, he saw that Oswin was gone. And 
this fact threw him into another convulsive fit. It 
was a long time before he was able to straighten 
his collar and go to the bar for a glass of French 
brandy. 

The last half-hour had made Oswin Markham 
very pale. He had eaten no breakfast, and he was 
reminded of this by the servant to whom he had 
given directions to have his horse brought to the door. 

“No,” he said, “I have not eaten anything. Get 
the horse brought round quickly, like a good fellow. ” 

He stood erect in the doorway until he heard 
the sound of hoofs. Then he went down the steps 
and mounted, turning his horse’s head towards 
Wynberg. He galloped along the red road at the 
base of the hill, and only ©nee he looked up, saying, 
“For the last time — the last.” 


DAIREEN. 


349 


He reached the avenue at Mowbray and dismounted, 
throwing the bridle over his arm as he walked 
slowly between the rows of giant aloes. In another 
moment he came in sight of the Dutch cottage. 
He paused under one of the Australian oaks, and 
looked towards the house. “Oh, God, God, pity 
me! ” he cried in agony so intense that it could 
not relieve itself by any movement or the least 
motion. 

He threw the bridle over a low branch and walked 
up to the house. His step was heard. She stood 
before him in the hall — white and flushed in turn as 
he went towards her. He was not flushed; he was 
still deadly white. He had startled her, he knew, 
for the hand she gave him was trembling like a 
dove’s bosom. 

“ Papa is gone part of the way back to Simon’s 
Town with the commodore who was with us this 
morning, ” she said. “ But you will come in and 
wait, will you not ? ” 

“I cannot,” he said. “I cannot trust myself to 
go in — even to look at you, Daireen.” 

“ Oh God ! ” she said, “ you are ill — your face — 
your voice ” 

“ I am not ill, Daireen. I have an hour of strength — 
such strength as is given to men when they look 
at Death in the face and are not moved at all. I 
kissed you last night ” 

“ And you will now, ” she said, clasping his arm 
tenderly. “Dearest, do not speak so terribly — do 
not look so terrible — so like — ah, that night when 
you looked up to me from the water.” 

“ Daireen, why did I do that ? Why did you 
pluck me from that death to give me this agony of 
life — to give yourself all the bitterness that can 
come to any soul? Daireen, I kissed you only 
once, and I can never kiss you again. I cannot 
be false to you any longer after having touched 


350 


DAIREEN. 


your pure spirit. I have been false to you — false, 
not by my will — but because to me God denied 
what He gave to others — others to whom His gift 
was an agony — that divine power to begin life 
anew. My past still clings to me, Daireen — it is 
not past — it is about and around me still — it is the 
gulf that separates us, Daireen. ” 

“ Separates us? ” she said blankly, looking at 
him. 

“ Separates us, ” he repeated, “ as heaven and hell 
are separated. We have been the toys — the play- 
things, of Fate. If you had not looked out of your 
cabin that night, we should both be happy now. 
And then how was it we came to love each other 
and to know it to be love ? I struggled against it, 
but I was as a feather upon the wind. Ah, God has 
given us this agony of love, for I am here to look 
on you for the last time — to beseech of you to hate 
me, and to go away knowing that you love me. ” 
“No, no, not to go away — anything but that. 
Tell me all — I can forgive all. ” 

“ I cannot bring my lips to frame my curse, ” he 
said after a little pause. “But you shall hear it, 
and, Daireen, pity me as you pitied me when I looked 
to God for hope and found none. Child — give me 
your eyes for the last time. ” 

She held him clasped with her white hands, and 
he saw that her passion made her incapable of 
understanding his words. She looked up to him 
whispering, “The last time — no, no — not the last 
time — not the last. ” 

She was in his arms. He looked down upon her 
face, but he did not kiss it. He clenched his teeth 
as he unwound her arms from him. 

“ One word may undo the curse that I have bound 
about your life, ” he said. “ Take the word, Daireen — 
the blessed word for you and me — Forget Take 
it— it is my last blessing.” 


DAIREEll. 


351 


She was standing before him. vShe saw his 
face there, and she gave a cry, covering her 
own face with her hands, for the face she saw 
was that which had looked up to her from the 
black waters. 

Was he gone? 

From the river bank came the sounds of the 
native women, from the garden the hum of insects, 
and from the road the echo of a horse’s hoofs passing 
gradually away. 

Was it a dream — not only this scene of broad 
motionless leaves, and these sounds she heard, but 
all the past months of her life? 

Hours went by leaving her motionless in that 
seat, and then came the sound of a horse — she sprang 
up. He was returning — it was a dream that had 
given her this agony of parting. 

“ Daireen, child, what is the matter? ” asked her 
father, whose horse it was she had heard. 

She looked up to his face. 

“ Papa, ” she said very gently, “ it is over — all — 
all over — for ever — I have only you now.” 

“My dear little Dolly, tell me all that troubles 
you. ” 

“Nothing troubles me now, papa. I have you 
near me, and I do not mind anything else.” 

“Tell me all, Daireen.” 

“ I thought I loved some one else, papa — 
Oswin — Oswin Markham. But he is gone now, 
and I know you are with me. You will always be 
with me.” 

“ My poor little Dolly, ” said Colonel Gerald ; “ did 
he tell you that he loved you ? ” 

“ He did, papa; but you must ask me no more. 
I shall never see him again!” 

“ Perfectly charming 1 ” said Mrs. Crawford, stand- 
ing at the door. “The prettiest picture I have 
seen for a long time —father and daughter in each 


352 


DAIREEN. 


Other’s arms. But, my dear George, are you not 
yet dressed for the bishop’s dinner? Daireen, my 
child, did you not say you would be ready when I 
would call for you? I am quite disappointed, and 
I would be angry only you look perfectly lovely 
this evening — like a beautiful lily. The dear 
bishop will be so charmed, for you are one of 
his favourites. Now do make haste, and I entreat 
of you to be particular with your shades of gray.” 


CHAPTER XL, 


... A list of . . . resolutes 
For food and diet, to some enterprise 
That hath a stomach in’t. 

My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. 

Why, let the stricken deer go weep, 

The hart ungalldd play; 

For some must watch, while some must sleep; 
Thus nms the world away. — Hamlet. 


The Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metro- 
politan of the Salamander Archipelago was smiling 
very tranquilly upon his guests as they arrived at 
his house, which was about two miles from Mowbray. 
But the son of the bishop was not smiling — he, in 
fact, seldom smiled; there was a certain breadth of 
expression associated with such a manifestation of 
feeling that was inconsistent with his ideas of subtlety 
of suggestion. He was now endeavouring to place 
his father’s guests at ease by looking only slightly 
bored by their presence, giving them to understand 
that he would endure them around him for his 
father’s sake, so that there should be no need for 
them to be at all anxious on his account. A dinner- 
party in a colony was hardly that sort of social 
demonstration which Mr. Glaston would be inclined 
to look forward to with any intensity of feeling; 
but the bishop, having a number of friends at the 
Cape, including a lady who was capable of imparting 
some very excellent advice on many social matters, 

23 


353 


354 


DAIREEN. 


had felt it to be a necessity to give this little dinner- 
party, and his son had only offered such a protest 
against it as satisfied his own conscience and 
prevented the possibility of his being consumed for 
days after with a gnawing remorse. 

The bishop had his own ideas of entertaining his 
guests — a matter which his son brought under his 
consideration after the invitations had been issued. 

“There is not such a thing as a rising tenor in 
the colony, I am sure,” said Mr. Glaston, whose 
experience of perfect social entertainment was limited 
to that afforded by London drawing-rooms. “ If we 
had a rising tenor, there "would be no difficulty 
about these people.” 

“ Ah, no, I suppose not, ” said the bishop. “ But 
I was thinking, Algernon, that if you would allow 
your pictures to be hung for the evening, and explain 
them, you know, it would be interesting.” 

“ What, by lamplight ? They are not drop-scenes 
of a theatre, let me remind you.” 

“No, no ; but you see your theories of explanation 
would be understood by our good friends as well 
by lamplight as by daylight, and I am sure everyone 
would be greatly interested. ” Mr. Glaston promised 
his father to think over the matter, and his father 
expressed his gratitude for this concession. “And 
as for myself,” continued the bishop, giving his 
hands the least little rub together, “ I would suggest 
reading a few notes on a most important subject, 
to which I have devoted some attention lately. My 
notes I would propose heading ‘Observations on 
Phenomena of Automatic Cerebration amongst some 
of the Cannibal Tribes of the Salamander Archi- 
pelago.’ I have some excellent specimens of skulls 
illustrative of the subject.’' 

Mr. Glaston looked at his father for a considerable 
time without speaking; at last he said quietly, “ I 
think I had better show my pictures.” 


DAIREEN. 


355 


•And my paper — my notes?* 

“ Impossible, ” said the young man, rising. • Utterly 
impossible ; ” and he left the room. 

The bishop felt slightly hurt by his son’s manner. 
He had treasured up his notes on the important 
observations he had made in an interesting part of 
his diocese, and he had looked forward with anxiety 
to a moment when he could reveal the result of his 
labours to the world, and yet his son had, when the 
opportunity presented itself, declared the revelation 
impossible. The bishop felt slightly hurt. 

Now, however, he had got over his grievance, 
and he was able to smile as usual upon each of his 
guests. 

The dinner-party was small and select. There 
were two judges present, one of whom brought his 
wife and a daughter. Then there were two members 
of the Legislative Council, one with a son, the 
other with a daughter; a clergyman who had attained 
to the dizzy ecclesiastical eminence of a colonial 
deanery, and his partner in the dignity of his office. 
The Macnamara and Standish were there, and Mr. 
Harwood, together with the Army Boot Commissioner 
and Mrs. Crawford, the last of whom arrived with 
Colonel Gerald and Daireen. 

Mrs. Crawford had been right. The bishop was 
charmed with Daireen, and so expressed himself 
while he took her hand in his and gave her the 
benediction of a smile. Poor Standish, seeing her 
so lovely as she was standing there, felt his soul 
full of love and devotion. What was all the rest 
of the world compared with her, he thought; the 
aggregate beauty of the universe, including the 
loveliness of the Miss Van der Veldt who was in 
the drawing-room, was insignificant by the side of 
a single curl of Daireen’s wonderful hair. Mr. 
Harwood looked towards her also, but his thoughts were 
somewhat more complicated than those of Standish. 


356 


DAIREEN. 


“ Is not Daireen perfection ? ** whispered Mrs. 
Crawford to Algernon Glaston. 

The bishop’s son glanced at the girl critically. 

“ I cannot understand that band of black velvet 
with the pearl in front of it,” he said. “I feel it 
to be a mistake — yes, it is an error for which I am 
sorry; I begin to fear it was designed only as a 
bold contrast. It is sad — very sad.” 

Mrs. Crawford was chilled. She had never seen 
Daireen look so lovely. She felt for more than a 
moment that she was all unmeet for a wife, so 
child-like she seemed. And now the terrible thought 
suggested itself to Mrs. Crawford: what if Mr. 
Glaston’s opinion was, after all, fallible? might it 
be possible that his judgment could be in error? 
The very suggestion of such a thought sent a cold 
thrill of fear through her. No, no: she would not 
admit such a possibility. 

The dinner was proceeded with, after the fashion 
of most dinners, in a highly satisfactory manner. 
The guests were arranged with discrimination in 
accordance with a programme of Mrs. Crawford’s, 
and the conversation was unlimited. 

Much to the dissatisfaction of The Macnamara 
the men went to the drawing-room before they had 
remained more than ten minutes over their claret. 
One of the young ladies of the colony had been 
induced to sing with the judge’s son a certain duet 
called ‘‘ La ci darem la mano ; ” and this was felt 
to be extremely agreeable by everyone except the 
bishop’s son. The bishop thanked the young lady 
very much, and then resumed his explanation to a 
group of his guests of the uses of some implements 
of war and agriculture brought from the tribes of 
the vSalamander Archipelago. 

Three of the pictures of Mr. Glaston’s collection 
were hung in the room, the most important being 
that marvellous Aholibah: it was placed upon a 


DAIREEN. 


357 


small easel at the farthest end of the room, a lamp 
being at each side. A group had gathered round 
the picture, and Mr. Glaston with the utmost good- 
nature repeated the story of its creation. Daireen 
had glanced towards the picture, and again that 
little shudder came over her. 

She was sitting in the centre of the room upon 
an ottoman beside Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Harwood. 
Standish was in a group at the lower end, while 
his father was demonstrating how infinitely superior 
were the weapons found in the bogs of Ireland to 
the Salamander specimens. The bishop moved gently 
over to Daireen and explained to her the pleasure 
it would be giving everyone in the room if she 
would consent to sing something. 

At once Daireen rose and went to the piano. A 
song came to her lips as she laid her hand upon the 
keys of the instrument, and her pure earnest voice 
sang the words that came back to her: — 

From my life the light has waned: 

Every golden gleam that shone 
Through the dimness now has gone. 

Of all joys has one remained? 

Stays one gladness I have known ? 

Day is past; I stand, alone, 

Here beneath these darkened skies. 

Asking — “Doth a star arise?” 

She ended with a passion that touched everyone 
who heard her, and then there was a silence for 
some moments, before the door of the room was 
pushed open to the wall, and a voice said, “ Bravo, 
my dear, bravo ! ” in no weak tones. 

All eyes turned towards the door. Mr. Despard 
entered, wearing an ill-made dress-suit, with an 
enormous display of shirt-front, big studs, and a large 
rose in his button-hole. 

“I stayed outside till the song was over,” he said. 
“ Bless your souls, IVe got a feeling for music, and 


358 


DAIREEN. 


hang me if IVe heard anything that could lick that 
tune.” Then he nodded confidentially to the bishop. 
“What do you say, Bishop? What do you say, 
King? am I right or wrong? Why, we’re all here 
— all of our set — the colonel too — how are you. 
Colonel? —and the editor — how we all do manage to 
meet somehow ! Birds of a feather — you know. 
Make yourselves at home, don’t mind me. ” 

He walked slowly up the room smiling rather 
more broadly than the bishop was in the habit of 
doing, on all sides. He did not stop until he was 
opposite the picture of Aholibah on the easel. Here 
he did stop. He seemed to be even more appre- 
ciative of pictorial art than of musical. He bent 
forward, gazing into that picture, regardless of the 
embarrassing silence there was in the room while 
everyone looked towards him. He could not see 
how all eyes were turned upon him, so absorbed 
had he become before that picture. 

The bishop was now certainly not smiling. He 
walked slowly to the man’s side. 

“ Sir, ” said the bishop, “ you have chosen an inop- 
portune time for a visit. I must beg of you to retire. ” 

Then the man seemed to be recalled to consciousness. 
He glanced up from the picture and looked into the 
bishop’s face. He pointed with one hand to the 
picture, and then threw himself back in a chair 
with a roar of laughter. 

“ By heavens, this is a bigger surprise than seeing 
Oswin himself, ” he cried. “ Where is Oswin ? — not 
here? — he should be here — he must see it.” 

It was Harwood’s voice that said, “ What do you 
mean? ” 

“Mean, Mr. Editor?” said Despard. “Mean? 
Haven’t I told you what I mean? By heavens, I 
forgot that I was at the Cape— I thought I was 
still in Melbourne! Good, by Jingo, and all through 
looking at that bit of paint!” 


DAIREEN. 


359 


“Explain yourself, sir?*' said Harwood. 

“Explain?” said the man. “That there explains 
itself. Look at that picture. The woman in that 
picture is Oswin Markham's wife, the Italian 
he brought to Australia, where he left her. That’s 
plain enough. A deucedly fine woman she is, though 
they never did get on together. Hallo! What’s 
the matter with Missy there? My God! she’s going 
to faint.” 

But Daireen Gerald did not faint. Her father had 
his arm about her. 

“Papa,” she whispered faintly, — “Papa, take me 
home. ” 

“ My darling, ” said Colonel Gerald. “ Do not look 
like that. For God’s sake, Daireen, don’t look like 
that. ” They were standing outside waiting for the 
carriage to come up ; for Daireen had walked from 
the room without faltering. 

“Do not mind me,” she said. “I am strong 
— yes — very — very strong. ” 

He lifted her into the carriage, and was at the 
point of entering himself, when the figure of Mrs. 
Crawford appeared among the palm plants. 

“ Good heavens, George ! what is the meaning of 
this ? ” she said in a whisper. 

“ Go back ! ” cried Colonel Gerald sternly. “ Go 
back! This is some more of your work. You shall 
never see my child again ! ” 

He stepped into the carriage. The major’s wife was 
left standing in the porch thunderstruck at such a 
reproach coming from the colonel. Was this the 
reward of her labour — to stand among the palms, 
listening to the passing away of the carriage wheels ? 

“ It was not until the Dutch cottage had been 
reached that Daireen, in the darkness of the room, 
laid her head upon her father’s shoulder. 

“ Papa, ” she whispered again, “ take me home- 
let us go home together.” 


36 o 


DAIREEN. 


“My darling, you are at home now/ 

“No, papa, I don’t mean that; I mean home — 
home — Glenmara. ” 

“I will, Daireen: we shall go away from here. 
We shall be happy together in the old house.” 

“Yes,” she said. “Happy — happy.” 

“What do you mean, sir?” said the mattre 
d' hotel, referring to a question put to him by Des- 
pard, who had been brought away from the bishop’s 
house by Harwood in a diplomatically friendly manner. 
“What do you mean? Didn’t Mr. Markham tell 
you he was going?” 

“Going — where?” said Harwood, 

“To Natal, sir? I felt sure that he had told you, 
though he didn’t speak to us. Yes, he left in the 
steamer for Natal two hours ago.” 

“ Squaring everything? ” asked Despar d. 

“ Sir ! ” said the maiire; “ Mr. Markham was a 
gentleman. ” 

“It was half a sovereign he gave you then,” 
remarked Despard. Then turning to Harwood, he 
said: “ Well, Mr. Editor, this is the end of all, I 
fancy. We can’t expect much after this. He’s gone 
now, and I’m infernally sorry for him, for Oswin 
was a good sort. By heavens, didn’t I burst in on 
the bishop’s party like a greased shrapnel? I had 
taken a little better than a glass of brandy before 
I went there, so I was in good form. Yes, Paulina 
is the name of his wife. He had picked her up 
in Italy or thereabouts. That’s what made his friends 
send him off to Australia. He was punished for his 
sins, for that woman made his life a hell to him. 
Now we’ll take the tinsel off a bottle of Moet together. ” 

“No,” said Harwood; “not to-night.” 

He left the room and went upstairs, for now 
indeed this psychological analyst had an intricate 
problem to work out. It was a long time before 
he was able to sleep. 


CHAPTER XLL 


CONCLUSION. 


What is it you would see ? 

If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. 

And let me speak to the yet unknowing world 

How these things came about: so shall you hear 

Of accidental judgments . . . 

purposes mistook. 

• *•... • 

... let this same be presently performed 
. . . lest more mischance 

On plots and errors happen. — Hamlet. 

Little more remains to be told to complete the 
story of the few months of the lives of the people 
whose names have appeared in these pages in illus- 
tration of how hardly things go right. 

Upon that night, after the bishop’s little dinner- 
party, everyone, except Mr. Despard, seemed to 
have a bitter consciousness of how terribly astray 
things had gone. It seemed hopeless to think that 
anything could possibly be made right again. If 
Mrs. Crawford had not been a pious woman and a 
Christian, she would have been inclined to say that 
the Fates, which had busied themselves with the 
disarrangement of her own carefully constructed 
plans, had become inebriated with their success and 
were wantoning in the confusion of the mortals 
361 


DAIREEN. 


36^ 

who had been their playthings. Should anyone 
have ventured to interpret her thoughts after this 
fashion, however, Mrs. Crawford would have been 
indignant and would have assured her accuser 
that her only thought was how hardly things go 
right. And perhaps, indeed, the sum of her thoughts 
could not have been expressed by words of fuller 
meaning. 

She had been careful beyond all her previous 
carefulness that her plans for the future of Daireen 
Gerald should be arranged so as to insure their 
success; and yet, what was the result of days of 
thoughtfulness and unwearying toil, she asked herself 
as she was driving homeward under the heavy oak 
branches amongst which a million fire-flies were 
flitting. This feeling of defeat —nay, even of shame, 
for the words Colonel Gerald had spoken to her in 
his bitterness of spirit were still in her mind — was 
this the result of her care, her watchfulness, her skill 
of organization ? Truly Mrs. Crawford felt that she 
had reason for thinking herself ill-treated. 

“Major,” she said solemnly to the Army Boot 
Commissioner as he partook of some simple refresh- 
ment in the way of brandy and water before retiring 
for the night — “ Major, listen to me while I tell you 
that I wash my hands clear of these people. Daireen 
Gerald has disappointed me; she has made a fool 
both of herself and of me; and George Gerald 
grossly insulted me.” 

“ Did he really now? ” said the major compassion- 
ately, as he added another thimbleful of the contents 
of the bottle to his tumbler. “ Upon my soul it was 
too bad of George — a devlish deal too bad of him. ” 
Here the major emptied his tumbler. He was feeling 
bitterly the wrong done to his wife as he yawned 
and searched in the dimness for a cheroot. 

“I wash my hands clear of them all,” continued 
the lady. “The bishop is a poor thing to allow 


DAIREE:Nr. 363 

himself to be led by that son of his, smd the son 
is a ” 

“For God's sake take care, Kate; a bishop, you 
know, is not like the rest of the people. ” 

“ He is a weak thing, I say, ” continued Mrs. 
Crawford firmly. “ And his son is — a — puppy. But 
I have done with them. ” 

“And for them,” said the major, striking a 
light. 

Thus it was that Mrs. Crawford relieved her 
pent-up feelings as she went to her bed; but in 
spite of the disappointment Daireen had caused her, 
and the gross insult she had received from Daireen’s 
father, before she went to sleep she had asked herself 
if it might not be well to forgive George Gerald and 
to beg of him to show some additional attention to 
Mr. Harwood, who was, all things considered, a most 
deserving man, besides being a distinguished person 
and a clever. Yes, she thought that this would be 
a prudent step for Colonel Gerald to take at once. 
If Daireen had made a mistake, it was sad, to be 
sure, but there was no reason why it might not be 
retrieved, Mrs. Crawford felt; and she fell asleep 
without any wrath in her heart against her old friend 
George Gerald. 

And Arthur Harwood, as he stood in his room 
at the hotel and looked out to the water of Table 
Bay, had the truth very strongly forced upon him 
that things had gone far wrong indeed, and with a 
facility of error that was terrifying. He felt that he 
alone could fully appreciate how terribly astray 
everything had gone. He saw in a single glance 
all of the past; and his scrupulously just conscience 
did not fail to give him credit for having at least 
surmised something of the truth that had just been 
brought to light. From the first — even before he had 
seen the man — he had suspected Oswin Markham; 
and, subsequently, had he not perceived — or at any 


3^4 


DAIREEN. 


rate fancied that he perceived — something of the 
feeling that existed between Markham and Daireen ? 

His conscience gave him ample credit for his 
perception; but after all, this was an unsatisfactory 
set-off against the weight of his reflections on the 
subject of the general error of affairs that concerned 
him closely, not the least of which was the 
unreasonable conduct of the Zulu monarch who 
had rejected the British ultimatum, and who thus 
necessitated the presence of a special correspondent 
in his dominions. Harwood, seeing the position of 
everything at a glance, had come to the conclusion 
that it would be impossible for him, until some 
months had passed, to tell Daireen all that he 
believed was in his heart. He knew that she had loved 
that man whom she had saved from death, and who 
had rewarded her by behaving as a rufiian towards 
her; still Mr. Harwood, like Mrs. Crawford, felt that 
her mistake was not irretrievable. But if he himself 
were now compelled by the conduct of this wretched 
savage to leave Cape Town for an indefinite period, 
how should he have an opportunity of pointing out 
to Daireen the direction in which her happiness lay ? 
Mr. Harwood was not generously disposed towards 
the Zulu monarch. 

Upon descending to the coffee-room in the morn- 
ing, he found Mr. Despard sitting somewhat moodily 
at the table. Harwood was beginning to think, now 
that Mr. Despard’s mission in life had been performed, 
there could be no reason why his companionship 
should be sought. But Mr. Despard was not at all 
disposed to allow his rapidly conceived friendship 
for Harwood to be cut short. 

“ Hallo, Mr. Editor, you’re down at last, are 
you?” he cried. “The colonel didn’t go up to 
your room, you bet, though he did to me — fine 
old boy is he, by my soul — plenty of good work 
in him yet.” 


DAIREEN. 365 

“ The colonel? Was Colonel Gerald here? ” asked 
Harwood. 

“He was, Mr. Editor; he was here just to see 
me, and have a friendly morning chat. We’ve taken 
to each other, has the colonel and me.” 

“He heard that Markham had gone? You told 
him, no doubt?” 

“ Mr. Editor, Sir, ” said Despard, rising to his feet 
and keeping himself comparatively steady by grasp- 
ing the edge of the table, — “Mr. Editor, there are 
things too sacred to be divulged even to the Press. 
There are feelings — emotions — chords of the human 
heart — you know all that sort of thing — the bond of 
friendship between the colonel and me is something 
like that. What I told him will never be divulged 
while I’m sober. Oswin had his faults, no doubt, 
but for that matter I have mine. Which of us is 
perfect, Mr. Editor? Why, here’s this innocent- 
looking lad that’s coming to me with another bottle 
of old Irish, hang me if he isn’t a walking receptacle 
of bribery and corruption! What, are you off?” 

Mr. Harwood was off, nor did he think it neces- 
sary to go through the formality of shaking hands 
with the moralizer at the table. 

It was on the day following that Mrs. Crawford 
called at Colonel Gerald’s cottage at Mowbray. 
She gave a start when she saw that the little hall 
was blocked up with packing-cases. One of them 
was an old military camp-box, and upon the end 
of it was painted in dimly white letters the name 
“ Lieutenant George Gerald. ” Seeing it now as she 
had often seen it in the days at the Indian station, 
the poor old campaigner sat down on a tin uniform 
case and burst into tears. 

“ Kate, dear good Kate, ” said Colonel Gerald, 
laying his hand on her shoulder. “What is the 
matter, my dear girl ? ” 

“ Oh, George, George ! ” sobbed the lady, “ look 


366 


DAIREEN. 


at that case there— look at it, and think of the 
words you spoke to me two nights ago. Oh, George, 
George ! ” 

“ God forgive me, Kate, I was unjust — ungenerous. 
Oh, Kate, you do not know how I had lost myself 
as the bitter truth was forced upon me. You have 
forgiven me long ago, have you not? ” 

“I have, George,” she said, putting her hand in 
his. “ God knows I have forgiven you. But what 
is the meaning of this? You are not going away, 
surely? ” 

“We leave by the mail to-morrow, Kate,” said 
the colonel. 

“Good gracious, is it so bad as that?” asked the 
lady, alarmed. 

“Bad? there is nothing bad now, my dear. We 
only feel — Dolly and myself — that we must have 
a few months together amongst our native Irish 
mountains before we set out for the distant Castaways.” 

Mrs. Crawford looked into his face earnestly for 
some moments. “Poor darling little Dolly,” she 
said in a voice full of compassion ; “ she has met 
with a great grief, but I pray that all may yet be 
well. I will not see her now, but I will say farewell 
to her aboard the steamer to-morrow. Give her 
my love, George. God knows how dear she is 
to me.” 

Colonel Gerald put his arms about his old friend 
and kissed her silently. 

Upon the afternoon of the next day the crowd 
about the stern of the mail steamer which was at 
the point of leaving for England was very large. 
But it is only necessary to refer to a few of the 
groups on the deck. Colonel Gerald and his old 
friend Major Crawford were side by side, while 
Daireen and the major’s wife were standing apart 
looking together up to the curved slopes of the 
tawny Lion’s Head that half hid the dark, flat face 


DAIREEN. 


367 


of Table Mountain. Daireen was pale almost to 
whiteness, and as her considerate friend said some 
agreeable words to her she smiled faintly, but the 
observant Standish felt that her smile was not real, 
it was only a phantom of the smiles of the past 
which had lived upon her face. Standish was beside 
his father, who had been so fortunate as to obtain 
the attention of Mr. Harwood for the story of the 
wrongs he had suffered through the sale of his 
property in Ireland. 

“ What is there left for me in the counthry of my 
sires that bled?” he enquired with an emphasis 
that almost amounted to passion. “The sthrangers 
that have tom the land away from us thrample us 
into the dust. No, sir, I’ll never return to be 
thrampled upon; I’ll go with my son to the land 
of our exile — the distant Castaway isles, where the 
flag of freedom may yet burn as a beacon above 
the thunderclouds of our enemies. Return to the 
land that has been torn from us? Never.” 

Standish, who could have given a very good guess 
as to the number of The Macnamara’s creditors 
awaiting his return with anxiety, if not impatience, 
moved away quickly, and Daireen noticed his action. 
She whispered a word to Mrs. Crawford, and in 
another instant she and Standish were together. 
She gave him her hand, and each looked into the 
other’s face speechlessly for a few moments. On 
her face there was a faint tender smile, but his was 
full of passionate entreaty, the force of which made 
his eyes tremulous. 

“Standish, dear old Standish,” she said; “you 
alone seem good and noble and true. You will 
not forget all the happy days we have had together. ” 

“Forget them?” said Standish. “Oh, Daireen, if 
you could but know all — if you could but know 
how I think of every day we have passed together. 
What else is there in the world worth thinking 


368 


DAIREEN. 


about? Oh, Daireen, you know that I have always 
thought of you only — that I will always think of 
you. ” 

“Not yet, Standish,” she whispered. “Do not 
say anything to me — no, nothing— yet. But you 
will write every week, and tell me how the Castaway 
people are getting on, until we come out to you at 
the islands.” 

“ Daireen, do all the days we have passed together 
at home — on the lough — on the mountain, go for 
nothing ? ” he cried almost sadly. “ Oh, my darling, 
surely we cannot part in this way. Your life is not 
wrecked. ” 

“ No, no, not wrecked,” she said with a start, 
and he knew how she was struggling to be strong. 

“ You will be happy, Daireen, you will indeed, 
after a while. And you will give me a word of hope 
now — one little word to make me happy.” 

She looked at him — tearfully — lovingly. “Dear 
Standish, I can only give you one word. Will it 
comfort you at all if I say Hope, Standish?” 

“My darling, my love! I knew it would come 
right in the end. The world I knew could not be 
so utterly forsaken by God but that everything 
should come right.” 

“ It is only one word I have given you, ” she 
said. 

“ But what a word, Daireen I oh, the dearest and 
best word I ever heard breathed. God bless you, 
darling! God bless you!” 

He did not make any attempt to kiss her: he 
only held her white hand tightly for an instant and 
looked into her pure, loving eyes. 

“Now, my boy, good-bye,” said Colonel Gerald, 
laying his hand upon Standish’s shoulder. “You 
will leave next week for the Castaways, and you 
will, I know, be careful to obey to the letter the 
directions of those in command until I come out to 


DAIREEN. 


369 


you. You must write a complete diary, as I told 
you — ah, there goes the gun! Daireen, here is 
Mr. Harwood waiting to shalce hands with you.” 

Mr. Harwood’s hand was soon in the girl’s. 

“ Good-bye, Miss Gerald. I trust you will some- 
times give me a thought,” he said quietly. 

“ I shall never forget you, Mr. Harwood, ” she said 
as she returned his grasp. 

In another instant, as it seemed to the group on 
the shore, the good steamer passing out of the bay 
had dwindled down to that white piece of linen 
which a little hand waved over the stern. 

“ Mr. Harwood, ” said Mrs. Crawford, as the special 
correspondent brought the major’s wife to a wagon- 
ette. — “Mr. Harwood, I fear we have been terribly 
wrong. But indeed all the wrong was not mine. 
You, I know, will not blame me.” 

“I blame you, Mrs Crawford? Do not think of 
such a thing, ” said Harwood. “ No ; no one is to 
blame. Fate was too much for both of us, Mrs. 
Crawford. But all is over now. All the past days 
with her near us are now no more than pleasant 
memories. I go round to Natal in two days, and 
then to my work in the camp.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Harwood, what ruffians there are in this 
world! ^ said the lady just before they parted. Mr. 
Harwood smiled his acquiescence. His own expe- 
rience in the world had led him to arrive unassisted 
at a similar conclusion. 

Arthur Harwood kept his word and left by the 
steamer for Natal two days afterwards; and in the 
same steamer Mr. Despard took passage also, 
declaring his intention to enlist on the side of the 
Zulus. Upon reaching Algoa Bay, however, he went 
ashore and did not put in an appearance at the 
departure of the steamer from the port; so that Mr. 
Harwood was deprived of his companionship, which 
had hitherto been pretty close, but which promised 

24 


370 


DAIREEN. 


to become even more so. As there was in the 
harbour a small vessel about to proceed to Australia, 
the anxiety of the special correspondent regarding 
the future of the man never reached a point of em- 
barrassment. 

The next week Standish Macnamara, accompanied 
by his father, left for the Castaway Islands, where 
he was to take up his position as secretary to the 
new governor of the sunny group. Standish was 
full of eagerness to begin his career of hard and 
noble work in the world. He felt that there would 
be a large field for the exercise of his abilities in the 
Castaways, and with the word that Daireen had 
given him living in his heart to inspire all his actions, 
he felt that there was nothing too hard for him to 
accomplish, even to compelling his father to return 
to Ireland before six months should have passed. 

It was on a cool afternoon towards the end of 
this week, that Mrs. Crawford was walking under 
the trees in the gardens opposite Government House,, 
when she heard a pleasant little musical laugh behind 
her, accompanied by the pat of dainty little high- 
heeled shoes. 

“Dear, good Mrs. Crawford, why will you walk 
so terribly fast? It quite took away the breath of 
poor little me to follow you,” came the voice of 
Lottie Vincent. Mrs. Crawford turned, and as she 
was with a friend, she could not avoid allowing her 
stout hand to be touched by one of Lottie’s ten- 
buttoned gloves. “ Ah, you are surprised to see 
me,” continued the young lady. “I am surprised 
myself to find myself here, but papa would not 
hear of my remaining at Natal when he went on 
to the frontier with the regiment, so I am staying 
with a fidend in Cape Town. Algernon is here, but 
the dear boy is distressed by the number of people. 
Poor Algy is so sensitive.” 

“ Poor who ? ” cried Mrs. Crawford. 


DAIREEN. 


371 


“ Oh, good gracious, what have I said? ” exclaimed 
the artless little thing, blushing very prettily, and 
appearing as tremulous as a fluttered dove. “Ah, 
my dear Mrs. Crawford, I never thought of concealing 
it from you for a moment. I meant to tell you the 
first of anyone in the world — I did indeed.” 

“ To tell me what ? ” asked the major’s wife sternly. 

“ Surely you know that the dear good bishop has 
given his consent to — to — do help me out of my 
diJfficulty of explaining, Mrs. Crawford.” 

“ To your becoming the wife of his son? * 

“I knew you would not ask me to say it all so 
terribly plainly,” said Lottie. “Ah yes, dear 
Algy was too importunate for poor little me to 
resist; I pitied him and promised to become his for 
ever. We are devoted to each other, for there is no 
bond so fast as that of artistic sympathy, Mrs. Crawford. 
I meant to write and thank you for your dear 
good-natured influence, which, I know, brought about 
his proposal. It was all due, I frankly acknowledge, 
to your kindness in bringing us together upon the 
day of that delightful limch we had at the grove 
of silver leaves. How can I ever thank you ? But 
there is darling Algy looking quite bored. I must 
rush to him, ” she continued, as she saw Mrs. 
Crawford about to speak. Lottie did not think it 
prudent to run the risk of hearing Mrs. Crawford 
refer to certain little Indian affairs connected with 
Lottie’s residence at that agreeable station on the 
Himalayas ; so she kissed the tips of her gloves, and 
tripped away to where Mr. Algernon Glaston was 
sitting on one of the garden seats. 

“ She is a wicked girl, ” said Mrs. Crawford to 
her companion. “ She has at last succeeded in finding 
some one foolish enough to be entrapped by her. 
Never mind, she has conquered — I admit that. Oh, 
this world, this world ! ” 

And there can hardly be a doubt that Miss Lottie 


372 


DAIREEN. 


Vincent, all things considered, might be said to have 
conquered. She was engaged to marry Algernon 
Glaston, the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands 
and Metropolitan of the Salamander Group, and this 
to Lottie meant conquest. 

Of Oswin Markham only a few words need be 
spoken to close this story, such as it is. Oswin 
Markham was once more seen by Harwood. Two 
months after the outbreak of the war the special 
correspondent, in the exercise of his duty, was one 
night riding by the Tugela, where a fierce engage- 
ment had taken place between the Zulus and the 
British troops. The dead, black and white, were 
lying together — assagai and rifle intermixed. 
Harwood looked at the white upturned faces of the 
dead men that the moonlight made more ghastly, 
and amongst those faces he saw the stern clear-cut 
features of Oswin Markham. He was in the uniform 
of a Natal volunteer. Harwood gave a start, but 
only one ; he stood above the dead man for a long 
time, lost in his own thoughts. Then the pioneers, 
who were burying the dead, came up. 

“ Poor wretch, poor wretch ! ” he said slowly, 
standing there in the moonlight. “ Poor wretch! 
. ... If she had never seen him. ... i£ . . . 
Poor child! " 


THE END. 


CUBA 

LIBRE 


All friends of progress and humanity are 
invited to contribute money and material to 
the cause of 


Cuban Independence 


Please send contributions to the following 
gentlemen : 




Col. FERNANDO HGUEREDO 

Tampa, Fla. 

Gen. GONZALEZ QUESADA, 

New York City 
J. G. CHRISTOPHER, Esq. 

Jackscftiville, FTa. 

TOL H STOANE & SONS 

Cincinnati, Ohio 

Capt. ORLAN C CULLEN 

Cullen, Va. 


H^^^The services of well-equipped parties 
are also solicited. Address as above. 


A<Jv, I 



Oldest Summer Resort in the United States 

Established 1734 


Good Fishing, Boating and Bathing 


C. W. CULLEN & SON 

Proprietors 


TERMS : 

Per week, one person, - - - _ - $^5-oo 

Per monih “ - 40.00 

Two percons in one room, - - - - 70.00 

Special rates to parties of three or more 

Distance from Richmond and Danville Railroad, one mile, 
Bnckton : from Norfolk and Western, three miles, Riverton : 
from Baltimore and Ohio, four miles, Middletown. 

Eight different waters, namely : White, Red and Blue 
Sulphur, Lum, Iron, Arsenic, Chalybeate and Eithia. 

Located on top of the 

“THREE TOP RANGE” 

of the Massanutten chain of mountains. Elevation 2,100 
feet above the sea. 

No Mosquitos^ Gnats or Halaria 

Adv. 2, 


Co earn 
H Bicycle 



f OR 300 subscriptions to at 50 cents 

each, sent in by October 1st, 1896, the 
Current Literature Co. will give a high-grade 
1896 wheel of a standard make and selling at 
$100, ladies’ or gentlemen’s model, as may be 
preferred. 

A similar wheel will be given on or before 
the same date for 50 subscriptions to 
EitCfdttirC at $3.00 each, or for 60 subscriptions 
to $l)0rt Storks at $2.50 each. 

Any of the above offers may be combined so 
that the total for the combined subscriptions 
shall equal $150. Those who may not secure 
the requisite number for a wheel, may send in 
subscriptions and a special discount of 25 per 
cent, will be returned upon every subscription 
sent in. 

Send 10 cents in stamps for full instructions, 
sample copies, etc. 

Current Dterature Publishing Co. 

52-54 Kafayette Place, Hew VorK 


N * 








• \ 


N 


f ‘ J 

A . 


^ ■ I 



I 


/y ' -I' 

w •> 

■ y r . :■ 


1 


■,i. 






• . ^ 






•■.•V '• 


I 


.• I 


i 
















/ ..' I 

« * 



• I < ' ■ ' 

■ - . W, 


(v"'' ■' ,'v': » ' .■■’■ .'-■ 

' M • 


. I 


'■ i:-' . 


- 


I 



i 






\ , • 


/ 








*: ■ ■ - , '' '^Arv’rK,.- ’'-' 

• '*■ ‘"^v ' 2 c ’■ ’ ’ ’^ ^ *'!!*. r i'* ' -.I ,'•>'■ 

'-^rVlrK^ m ■' . 8 i<'. ■., '.=*. . V^‘:• .v:*> 

;-*/>,.■ ^ ■ ‘ ’ iitiBiiiiiimBiii , '‘‘T: * ' ■■-■’■' •■'..■■n»^‘ 


’iL._ 


H 


•/ ^ 




. *W, / • ' ■» - . 

.jilf •. -• 


>/' 't 






^'4 




' ^1 


r r if . « ■'•■■' r \;; " T'''" v 

5. .• 

tU H . .‘^‘'f’ •' A' 

■ ' V. » ’ y/jiTff 

.*^ 1 # • 4 *- 7 ' 

, ■'■" * •, 'V' ‘z'" , ' ^ ’ 

_ li*J* -c. ♦. 


:7 


^ J ' x; ' i ^ 

ri -li:*- 4 .'*„.i. 

If . *■; *■ V'** ' " 




I < 








• I « 


. H 


1 , 



V r^it^ 


•£■1 


) 



•V.VV -‘.'' -. ■•■,>“• , 

.t i' *->‘ 3 ; -/ -.v 
•'•■ ><■ ■vti'V * , .H-' , y,-» 

<*•* *•»••** ^ i • * * * 

1- r i 





,(. 


• ’ ti' 

• /•::. . 'v^Y' 

‘ .;"r « vv»:V/^jV 5 


V •: 



> 


\ 




tm 

f 


'' ' 'V ,<'•’. 

• » > • 


7, 




•W 


i 


t* ». 


.» •^ 


. ■■ •^■ - -'}(i ■, ■:■ . • , . . 

: W. • ' ■ i*’ 'r ‘-1 'iv*^ 

• ♦■■ *- ■ ., ■■ ■ ' v,; 

* - . ^ «*. . / .V AJt* 


*■ '»*. 


•• » 


>- 


. I ^ 


■ ';i.. 




» 




. t 


A . . 


'• ' •’^. . sv 


^ » » 


^ . i i 


>.» 


. «*. .■* 


t ’ •* 




» #» ■ y I ^ »i 


■:V’-'isif'' 


Sa 


Ui; ji I 

>11 U • »• i‘[i = * " ' 

iii"'* ' ' ’■ '1'^ ■ ■^' “* ' ’ '* ' . 

*■ <■ iilTl'’!. 

t ' • * .'••S 

1^1, ;■' 


4 




. 


; - > '‘’"1 ‘ V 

^ V '• m *» 

'■•■ 

■‘ V ., 

' • ■•; . , ■ '. ■ v>», 

A ‘ ■ \ V 




^*•4 



« ' t. 


*' , 




WJ ^'- < 




’^'•s '-^’.V 


V > 



^ j 


» ./. 


r;,** 


,T 


k »' 


' ‘ ‘ ‘.i/f 

• f tA . ■ s A %• » , v 


wn' 


*-r 


/■ Cf.'. 


’v 


A t * 


f ‘f ^ 



- • -W/ ■ i.’-’ 

-'• Cr'y. • 7 >''“ 

uY.Vij'k . • . r 


■fv/j:'^' ’.77 


'^\ \ ■ .* 


\A ' \ “ m' ' 

^ .i£* ^ .k 


' . 


'/ ’T 




»v i'- 


’Mi 


V.,:7'iV , , '^ 


t't . -. 


t \ rf* 

. ‘ iv 




\ I 


-4 




>*i 





'1 


I. ‘ 


»■ ■*/ 




' . , 


; .^i 


f / 










